


You Said One Minute

by SSCoby



Category: Evansson - Fandom, Marvel, Romanogers - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSCoby/pseuds/SSCoby
Summary: After winning the war, after bringing back all of the population that had been erased during the blip, after all of the losses we had to endure, I was trusted with one last mission: to return all of the stones to the places where they belonged.Keeping balance was an important task to keep the whole universe safe, but bringing her back held the number one priority inside my heart. She deserved to enjoy the victory even more than the rest of us.
Relationships: Captain America/Black Widow, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill & Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff
Comments: 28
Kudos: 127





	1. After War

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. I do not own, nor take credit for, names, characters, places, and set incidents.
> 
> This small story is product of the author's imagination, derived from the existent work of other artists (Marvel). Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
> 
> Profit is not searched through this piece of art.

As I climbed the rocks of Vormir, following the path I knew would led me to a personality I thought would never enter my life again, I went through the plan I had created for this occasion. It was solid, 100% of probability. I had ran it in my head over and over again throughout the journey. There was only one thing that mattered—getting it right.

As the rock arch came into view, and the spectrum guarding the entrance moved to block my path, my heart started racing, realizing where was I, what was next.

“Captain,” said Red Skull. “It’s been so long since our paths became one.”

“Red Skull.”

“It’s been so long since anyone referred to me by that name.”

“You know why I am here.”

I had no time to catch up, I needed to fulfill my mission and return to my own era. There were things to do, a job to be done.

As I looked into his eyes, the look of a former enemy returned the gaze and millions of memories came back rushing—my sacrifice hadn’t been in vain, and instead I had had the opportunity to fight alongside the bravest warriors I had ever met, and obtain the privilege to call them family.

“I believe it was only minutes ago that your friend took the stone.”

“I wouldn’t want you to miss it, so I brought it back.” I waved the box dressed with iron.

Red Skull extended his hand and waited to receive the small container. “The good Captain, always restoring the peace and balance in the universe.”

I retracted the box immediately. “Not so fast.” Aside from the fact he was nothing but a guardian, a tourism guide, my plan was far from being naive, it actually contained just the right amount of hope. “I know how this works, _you_ know how it works. I’m afraid I can’t return the soul stone just like that.”

He assessed me for a couple of seconds, weighing my words and the meaning behind them. I hadn’t come all this way to waste the opportunity I had. No one back home knew about this, no one had even considered the possibility of such a thing, and I hadn’t said anything even after my brain had been illuminated with this solution.

“What is it that you want, Captain?”

“Just what it is right, what it’s fair.”

His look changed, his expression recognized what I wanted as a reward for returning the stone to its resting place. “You want to exchange it.”

“A soul for a soul.”

I felt the iron bite on my fingertips as I pressed on the material, anxiety gnawing at me while I waited for the response. I knew it wasn’t up to him, he did not decided if the deal was valid or not, he was just another spokesman for a greater force.

“Step at the edge, hold the stone and think about the person you are seeking to get back, then let the stone fall to the bottom of the cliff.”

Red Skull moved aside and allowed me passage. My legs were moving without me being conscious of it. All I knew was that my plan had worked, it hasn’t been a foolish dream, nor an idea lacking foundation.

I took the stone out and felt the electricity run through my arm instantly. Letting the box fall to the floor next to me, I focused solely on the feeling inside my chest, the desire of getting her back. She deserved, more than anyone else, to live the life she had given us the chance to obtain—we wouldn’t have come up victorious if she hadn’t sacrificed herself for the rest of us.

And so, with one last thought, and all of the strength I could implement on it, I extended my arm and opened my hand to let the stone fall to its destiny.

Nothing happened for a second, and then a blinding light took ahold of everything around, bathing me in the burning feeling of being part of the whole galaxy and, at the same time, being just a small molecule in the nothingness of the vast universe.

As I sat up, I felt more than heard the water making paddling noises. I looked around to observe kilometers and kilometers of water, surrounded by an orange so soft it gave off a soothing feeling.

Was I dead? Had I made a mistake? Could it be that my plan had never been viable at all and now I found myself in a predicament?

“Steve?”

My heart started pounding. I could recognize that voice everywhere and under any condition. It had actually worked, I had actually made it. I had gotten her back.

I stood up and turned slowly, afraid to make any sudden movements. But I couldn’t believe my eyes when they fell onto that red mane, partially turning into that blond she had wore years back and was now fading.

“Nat.”

That was all I could utter before her body crashed against mine, hanging from my shoulders like a small koala.

“You’re here,” she whispered in my ear. “You really are here.”

“Well, you said _see you in a minute._ ” Hearing her laugh was a gift for a second I thought would never get. “I couldn’t allow you to break that promise.”

Then everything changed. The light came back again and once more I was standing on the edge of Vormir’s cliff. Only this time I wasn’t alone, everything was perfect now because she was with me, because I had rescued her the same way she had rescued all of us.

“Now what?” Her arms hadn’t let go of my shoulders, and it was only fair since I hadn’t loosen my grip over her waist.

“Now I take you home.”


	2. Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello.
> 
> Seeing the hits the first chapter had, I decided I would dare to make a second part.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

I still couldn’t believe I wasn’t dead anymore. To feel the gravel being crushed under my boots, to see Steve programming my suit and stock it with the Pym Particles, to feel the wind of a warm whole sucking me inside of the vortex as Captain America—my friend—held tight onto me… it was all insanity.

My brain hadn’t even reacted by the time the scenery changed and I was surrounded by forest, close to a lake, stepping on a platform that felt and looked all too familiar.

Three pairs of eyes were focused on the two of us—Bucky, Sam, and Bruce. I felt their shock, I felt it as if it were mine. However I didn’t have time to react, my legs gave in and my mind shut down.

*****

Bucky, Sam, and Bruce approached us as Nat collapsed in my arms. Their proximity only made me clutch her tighter towards me in an instinctive reaction, one that shouldn’t have happened, at least not in response to the presence of those whom I considered my friends… my family.

“How…? What did you do? How did you do it?” Banner couldn’t give credit to the sight ofan unconscious Natasha—unconscious and alive. “I couldn’t… I tried and I couldn’t do it.”

“Steve?” Sam’s voice told me he was as confused as our green friend.

And of course, Bucky’s silence became another significative proof of shock and disbelief. I, for my part, felt unsure of how I had actually gotten away with mine—I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, although my friends were asking for an explanation, afraid she would disappear if I so much as looked in a different direction for even a second.

Then Bucky spoke. “We should get her inside.” And if it hadn’t been for his words, we all would have stayed right where we were, just looking at the impossible.

I stood with her in my arms, refusing help when offered, experiencing a protective urge. I could smell her perfume, natural and wild—snow, petrichor, and wood—I could sense her life force and that made me the happiest I had been in a while.

Pepper, after surpassing her frozen state and overcoming the surprise, guided us inside her cabin so we could set the redhead in one of the spare rooms. Pepper provided food and water in case she woke up with any needs, she even placed a change of clothes at the feet of the bed.

“Cap?” Sam called from the door, but I didn’t move from the side of the bed where I had taken a seat— right next to her and holding her hand.

“Go Steve,” Pepper said. “I’ll watch out for her and let you know if she moves even an inch.”

I was led to the porch where Bruce and Bucky waited. And the last one spoke as soon as I leaned against the rail. “How did you bring her back, Rogers?”

“Not even the stones could do it,” Bruce added.

“Only one stone was needed.” My senses had been improved with the super-soldier serum, but not enough for me to be able to hear Nat’s heartbeat all the way from our position—of course, that didn’t stop me form trying.

Then Sam joined to the concern train. “Forgive me for saying this, Cap, but I hope you didn’t do something irrational just to get her back.”

“I did it by the book.” That’s what I did, that’s how Captain America did it, following the norms. “I followed the rules, if that’s what worries you.”

For a moment, the three of them kept quiet, letting their eyes wander in different directions. A part of me believed I had yet to realize my plan had ended up on a nice a melodious note. Right before hoping onto the time machine Bruce had expressed his sorrow for not having been able to bring Natasha back, and barely a few seconds after, I reappeared with her in my arms—I had hidden my intentions, it was only reasonable they had questions, doubts, and obviously confusion.

“A sacrifice was made to obtain the soul stone.” All I could do was explain my logic. “The deal is you have to make an exchange, you have to offer one soul to get another in return.”

Sam was nodding even before I finished. “Yeah, that’s what Clint said happened.” But despite his words he still didn’t look convinced.

“So you did it again?” Bucky asked. “You played by their rules and demanded the exchange before returning the stone?”

I nodded, not regretting my decision at all. It had been the right thing to do—for her. “I demanded her soul to be returned.”

“And it happened just like that?” Bruce asked. “You asked and she came back?”

“Just like that.”

*****

I was dreaming with the fall. I felt the wind combing my hair, whipping my face, and the weightless and terrifying feeling of not having anything to support me in the end. I was gonna crash, I was gonna hit the floor like I had so many times before. I was gonna feel my skull crack open and then the nothingness would embrace my mind. That was it, one last definite blow, and then nothing. A black whole, an endless black whole that sucked my essence. In the final moment, I ceased to exist.

Only this time, when I felt my body merging with the floor in a violent strike and I woke up, I was not at the edge of the cliff with Barton’s eyes looking at me with panic and pain, ready to repeat the fall in an endless loop. No, this time I was on a bed, I was enveloped by blankets as warm as those in my old apartment in the Avengers’ headquarters. This time it was not Barton who stared back at me, begging me not to let go of his hand… this time it was Steve Grant Rogers, the blond kid from Queens that had won a special place in my heart—or perhaps all of it.

Steve held me by the shoulders as I shot myself out of the pillows, partially scared, partially stunned of realizing it hadn’t been a trick of my mind.

“Nat, calm down. It’s me,” he said as he softly pushed down.

Before I could stop myself my fist launched itself ahead as a reaction to the simulated pain inside my brain—fortunately, Steve caught it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, it’s me.”

Of course I knew it was him. I could see him, I could smell him, I could sense every muscle on him trying to beat the pushing strength in mine. And still, my brain wouldn’t react as I begged for it to recognize the man that had saved my life.

The soldier eventually gave up, and allowed me to sit. I thought another punch would fly his way, but once more my body proved to have been buried under an erratic state, and took me forward to crash my front against Steve’s in a clumsy hug—honestly, it felt more as if my body was trying to shield under the solid wall of muscle.

“It’s okay, I got you. You’re here, you really are. You’re home, I promise.”

One of his hands fell on the back of my head, pressing my face gently against his chest, right under his chin. The other one settled on my lower back, aiding my snuggling by inciting me to get closer to him.

“Steve.” I wanted to say more, much more than just his name, but for the moment that would have to be enough, at least until I could summon those words of gratitude I was dying to utter.

“Yes, I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading people.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Know your comments and feedback is well received.
> 
> See you!


	3. Walking on Eggshells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here is another one, guys.
> 
> It took a bit longer, I wasn't sure of how to divide what I had. But now, here's the result.
> 
> Happy reading.

Three days went by before Nat finally left the room in Pepper’s house. I had been sleeping at the barn, not wanting to disrupt Pepper’s routines, her grieving time—her life was suffering adjustments, she needed time to heal. Of course I had been considering to get Natasha out of there, go back to my apartment and do my best to help her—obviously such plan needed to be approved by the person I wanted to take with me.

Five minutes later I learnt destiny had mysterious ways of working in one’s favor, as long as it suited its plans.

Two hesitant knocks informed me of the presence at the other side of the barn-door. My body knew it before even my brain registered to whom that nerve wracking state belonged—none of the guys were around anymore, after Natasha had refused to see anyone they decided the best thing was to give her space and time to adjust. Pepper would have just announced herself and walked inside, same as Happy, while Morgan would have just yelled my name, expecting me to attend the call right away.

I shot myself out of the couch, abandoned the book I had been trying—an failing miserably—to read, and opened the door as delicately as I could, trying to control my anxiety not to spook her.

“Nat.” I should have moved aside, I should have acted like a normal person. Instead I just stood there and stared.

She mouthed several times before actually getting the words out. “Can I come inside?”

She had her own arms enveloped around her torso like trying to shield herself from the outside world, but aside form that, her posture was perfect—not slouching and not a single trace of a tremor on her taut muscles.

“I’m sorry, yes. Please, by all means, do come inside.” I barely kept myself form palming my face as hard as I could just to stop the awkwardness.

The silence spread around us for what it felt like minutes before either of us spoke again. I, being the gigantic moron I was, stood there just looking at her and waiting— _what a creep._ I knew I couldn’t trust my vocal cords at all, I felt the threat of how my voice would crack as soon as I tried to expel one word.

“How”—I hawked as soon as I experienced the dryness—“how are you feeling?” I hadn’t had the time to speak with her like this—after that first day, after having held her for what it felt like hours, our intimate contact reduced to the bare minimum.

She seemed to be pondering on her response. “I’m alive, I guess.”

I wanted to get close to her. Hug her. But something told me it had to be her choice, it had to be her initiative. I had perceived the seriousness that took over her whenever she saw herself surrounded by others and I couldn’t help but wonder what she was experiencing, what dying had caused on her and the side effects through which she could go for the rest of her life.

Just thinking about that made me bristle with anger. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to erase everything bad she was feeling.

“I need to get out of here,” she said out of nowhere. “This is not a good idea.”

Her request helped the one I had been planning to deliver, but I couldn’t help but notice how much I didn’t understand the fear I heard behind her words. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to hurt them, Steve. You have to get me out of here.”

“Hurt who? Pepper? Morgan?” That was just absurd. “Natasha, you would never hurt them, they’re family, they—”

Then she snapped. “I can’t control myself!” she yelled. “Last night I woke up in the middle of the night and reached out for the lamp to defend myself against something that wasn’t there. What if one of them had walked in?”

“Nat, come on.” I understood post-traumatic stress, but there wasn’t anybody else I trusted more when everything was reduced to impulses—Nat had always been the best at that, she still was.

Of course I had to consider why now I was trying to dissuade her. But then I saw I wasn’t about that at all—I just wanted her to believe in herself as much as I did. If she wanted me to get her out of there, I would it without hesitating, but in my head, it was much more important that she understood how strong she was and despite not being an easy task, how capable she was to overcome the trauma she had just lived.

“Just get me out, please.”

And that last pray did it. In no time, Nat and I had packed the little we had at Pepper’s house. I explained the situation to our host and promised to come back every now and then—little Morgan was sad to see us leave, but after a promise from aunt Nat of coming to visit and play with her, the kid stood still and settled with waving from the distance. We bid our goodbyes and in the blink of an eye we were driving away from the lake house.

“This hasn’t changed a bit,” she said as I opened the door and let her through ahead of me. “Looks clean.”

“Whoa. I’ll try not to get offended by that.”

For a moment I thought I heard a laugh, surely it had been barely a snort, but something inside me lit by the knowledge of her shell cracking and tentatively peaking outside to see if it was safe to exit the shield and explore.

“No! I didn’t mean that.” She kept exploring as I moved to the bedroom and abandoned the small suitcase with her belongings. “You haven’t been here for who knows how long before all this and—”

I heard the way she cut her own words and I knew the memories were hitting her hard again. My nerves revived and pushed myself to provide a distraction. “Sam and Bucky have been returning here to help me with the maintenance.”

I walked back into the room and saw her looking at the pictures on one of the book shelves. She didn’t see me coming to her side, so I just stood still, waiting for her to speak next— _little by little, don’t push her..._ Of course, I failed and I cave in.

“You are welcome to take the bedroom, I’ll sleep here on the couch.”

“No, Steve. It’s your house.”

“It’s okay, I actually sleep a lot there.”

“Why?”

Her curiosity was increasing, just as her voice, and I couldn’t be happier to oblige so I could show her she was safe with me.

Natasha’s fingers traced a picture of the two of us, but the questioning never came. She was still waiting for the answer to a previous question.

“After the blip, I couldn’t just sleep there, I couldn’t sleep much. You know this… it just hasn’t changed.”

“I’m sorry.” She took the picture and then turned to look at me. “I thought I was gonna stay like this, just a picture, a memory, on someone’s shelf.”

The response was immediate. “I wasn’t gonna let that happen.”

When she looked at me, tears were brimming on the edge of her eyes, ready to stain her cheeks and clench my heart in an iron grip. I stepped closer, centimeters, and then waited.

“No one else did that.” Her words were far from being an accusation, instead I heard the doubt and question in them. “I was ready to sacrifice myself, as I told Clint, that was my job. So why did you go after me?”

“I couldn’t just let you go. We lost Tony as well, wasn’t about to let you drift away without—” I stopped myself before actually saying it. I wasn’t sure she would feel the same. “You deserve to be here, Nat. Even more than the rest of us.”

She was shaking her head before I even finished. But my conviction was strong, my believes were set on stone. Natasha Romanoff was the worthiest of us all, and my feelings for her had nothing to do with that thought in particular.

I took another step and then she fell against me. This time the energy emanating form her body was different from four days ago—Instead of being crushed by a deep fear and desperation for protection, I was overcome by a raw need. Instinctually, my arms enveloped her and delighted in feeling her so close to me, her heartbeat against mine, strong and alive.

“Why did you really go back there?”

It turned out I was transparent when it came to her. She knew. She knew and she wasn’t running away. I couldn’t ask more than that—I stopped feeling like a soldier trapped in eternal wars and I went back to experiencing the joy of a teenager, an accelerated pulse when thinking of the only woman that could cause my heart to pound the walls of its cage.

“I couldn’t lose you, Nat.” And that was the truth. “Not you. I had to try—no matter how hard, no matter how impossible—I had to give you my best effort.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy and feel free to comment on it.
> 
> Have a nice day, people.


	4. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one. I'm glad to see the hits, kudos, and comments.
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this small creation. You are all awesome.
> 
> Happy reading.

Things were different. It had felt as short as a couple of minutes, and still, so many things had changed. But something that always remained was Steve Rogers, solid-certain-strong as a rock-Steve.

I was having a hard time convincing my mind I was back, that my endless nightmare of falling off that terrifying cliff was over. Steve had saved, he had caught me, but my irrational mind couldn’t comprehend my present reality.

I managed to be productive for the next few days, helping him cook, clean, and occasionally keeping with a routine that would help my physicality stay at an acceptable level for an Avenger.

For almost a week I had been able to control the backlash of the nightmares, keeping a leash on the instinct that wanted to make me scream, kick, and take ahold of the nearest weapon-like object to try and sly a dragon that didn’t exist anywhere but my in my brain… my memories. But then I reached my limit, and the next night I spent amongst Steve’s sheets, when the reminder of a past crash against solid rock made me wake up screaming and kicking uncontrollably.

Sweat dripped down my spine, stained my face and made my hair stick to my temples. I was sure I had my eyes open, but all I could see was that fantasy purple of the sky, on the rocks that surrounded me, and even on the fog that threatened to swallow me whole.

I was faintly aware of a bang, and the next thing I knew was I felt a couple of hands gripping me down. My reaction was nothing more than that, a response from years of training and muscle memory, the result of fear… fear was good, fear kept you alive.

I snuck my arms through the hollow of the ones that were trying to restrain me, then hit downwards with my own elbows on his and got rid of the grip, and by swinging my body to the right, I hooked my left arm under his armpit to lock his extremity and immobilize him, then my leg over his side and I forced him to turn. The motion left me on top of him—I made one last swift change and I applied pressure with my knee on his chest while my right hand captured his neck and the left one readied itself to throw a punch.

“Nat, wake up,” he choked through the grip of my hand. “It’s me, it’sokay. You are safe.”

Oddly enough, he made no attempt to free himself from my lock. Instead he stayed incredibly still, his eyes on mine at all times. He showed me his hands, palms facing my way, displaying a position of no threat at all. He was trying to make me see he was not going to hurt me.

_Steve._

“I’m sorry I scared you, you were screaming, and I got worried.”

_It’s Steve._

“It’s okay, Nat. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

_Let go of him,_ I told myself. But somehow, to uncurl my fingers off his neck was proving to be the most difficult task I had ever faced… even harder than jumping off a cliff now that my mind was damaged.

If it was even possible, Steve relaxed further into the mattress, letting his soldier-like reflexes to go dormant and loosening his taut muscles for my comfort.

And so, I tried one more time, forcing myself more than I should have had to. “Steve,” I said as I ordered my fingers to let go of him, feeling still the resistance of my training and reflexes.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Having him being so submissive for my well-being, so careful not to upset me, and incredibly gentle just to get me to trust him, made my heart clench in pain. This shouldn’t have been like this, I shouldn’t have had to go through such trouble to control myself, much less in front of him… with him.

I jumped off him as if I had been scalded with boiling water, clenching my hands against my chest as to get them under control. Steve took his time getting up, he moved ever so slowly it could almost pass for a slow motion shot.

“Are you okay?” he asked as soon as the silence settled enough to make us feel uncomfortable, or at least me.

“I should be asking you that.” Nobody could accuse him of not being empathic enough… me on the other hand.

“Don’t worry about me, it takes more than that to discourage me.”

That was not the response I was expecting. From the moment we had been reunited in Vormir, Steve had been phrasing her ideas differently, he had been expressing thoughts I had only come to believe platonic. That pull I had always felt towards him had intensified since coming back to life and, apparently, Steve was not only experiencing it as well, but he was also acting on it. Little by little he had been changing, I could feel those small approaches he had been making and if I was honest with myself, it terrified me. We went form an unspoken attraction, to this magnetism that now seemed impossible to ignore.

“It isn’t my intention to tell you how to feel, or how to sooth everything you are feeling.” He made a pause and I could all but hear the ‘but’ in his words. “Perhaps you could start trying to unwind all that tension.”

“You mean training.”

“Yeah. Bucky, Sam, and I have been doing a lot of it.”

That reminded me of every trip to the gym he had taken since moving in to his apartment—He had extended an invitation to each of those opportunities, but I had felt the need to reject every time. I wasn’t ready, for some reason my brain couldn’t endure the pressure, so every time it felt danger, it completely overrode my will and took charge just like it had happened minutes ago.

“Why are you training?” There had to be a reason to maintain the physicality.

I could see he hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he settled for the truth. “Fury and Maria are working tirelessly to get the team up and running again. He just wants to be ready—”

That did the trick with my anxiety. “Ready for what?”

“Well… anything.”

He was right, at any moment a new threat could pop out of nowhere and try to destroy each of us. Fury had the right idea, we were here to protect, people needed us and it was imperative we were ready for when the moment came.

I was about to answer when I caught four red marks on the side right side of Steve’s neck. My eyes widened in shock and the response was to hurry towards him and turn his head gently so I cold take a better look at the small cuts my nails had left on his skin.

“Shit.”

He responded before I could tell him what I was looking at. “It’s okay.” That meant he had felt them, it meant he had been conscious of his skin being pinched under my grip, and still had done nothing to shake me off him.

“I’m so sorry, Steve, I didn’t—” _I didn’t realize what I was doing. I didn’t feel it. I didn’t mean to._

I couldn’t believe how out of myself I had been, at least enough to cause wounds on the skin of my _friend_ and remain oblivious to it. I needed to regain control of my body and mind ASAP, otherwise I could end up hurting everyone I cared for.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, and then he steeled his voice to make his next sentence more an order than a suggestion—I was looking at Captain America. “I’m gonna help you. I’ll take you to the complex tomorrow and you can start working on that. I’ll train with you.”

At that point, I couldn’t oppose. I wasn’t sure how long I would be staying with him, how long it would take me to be able to be on my own, so I needed to ensure his safety, I needed to protect him from me. And if Fury called for us, I wanted to be ready.

His hands moved upwards and encircled my wrists, but he didn’t pulled them away from his neck, his fingers were soft and gentle, caring. He just stayed there, touching my skin as I dared to explore the thickness of those blond strands. He closed his eyes at the feeling, and the long sigh he released—which was on the brink of becoming a low growl—made the muscles of my lower stomach clench.

_Well, fuck. Bye bye platonic status._

“Let me take care of it,” I whispered trying to protect the comfortable silence. “You still have that first aid kit over the sink?”

He just nodded, not opening his eyes even a millimeter. I tried to let go of his hair, slide smoothly without acting like the jumpy and nervous mess I was at the moment. What I didn’t expect was for him to press tighter on my wrist and pull me back towards him—he got up, and towering over me, he looked down to meet my eyes. Something had changed, in his eyes—slightly hooded—I could read more than just compassion. Then he leaned forward, and his back and neck bent to place his lips on my cheek, lingering there until my breath got caught in throat.

If that wasn’t enough, when he finally parted and let go of my wrists, his one-million-dollars smile was like a powerful hook to my gut—I managed to stay straight out of pure will power. Steve Rogers was something else altogether, and I was in so much more trouble I had initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed this one as well.
> 
> As always, feel free to comment on this. Feedback is good for growth.
> 
> Have a nice day!!!


	5. Old and New Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, some issues crossed my path and I had to leave it aside for the moment. But I am back with a new chapter.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoy this new part.

The training complex was very alike that of S.H.I.E.L.D, it made sense, having Fury taking charge of the team once more.

Steve had made sure we were the first to arrive, giving me time before the rest came along. I knew that, in simple terms, I hadn’t been away for that long—my death had only lasted a few days. Everything happened so fast, in such a blur. My time away from them had been set by my decision to isolate myself from the rest, because while for them had been the shortest days of their lives, for me had been an eternity. I could still feel myself falling, experiencing a nauseating vertigo right before jumping off.

“Is Clint coming?” I had no idea if he knew already what had happened—I had asked Steve to keep it on the low, and aside from Bruce, Sam, Bucky, and Pepper, no one else had seen me.

“I haven’t told him,” he answered without looking at me, still fumbling with his shoe laces. “Fury an Maria know, I explained what happened the day after we moved back into my apartment. They are coming.”

Half of myself felt excited for seeing them again, the other half felt a terrible anxiety. It wasn’t the first time—it had taken some convincing from Steve and a few gentle pulls to get me to climb into the car with him. I couldn’t decipher why was I so scared, I had known them for so long, I had fought along side them, I had bled with and for them… this should have been easier than it felt.

“What about Wanda?”

“She’s not ready yet.” The certainty with which he said it made me believe he had been speaking with her, keeping touch to make sure everyone survived the shock of a war we never asked for.

That was Captain Rogers, taking charge of the situation. However, Steve was there too, caring for his friends, making sure everyone was alright. After finding out Hydra had infiltrated into S.H.I.E.L.D, I felt I couldn’t trust anyone at all, and he had gained every bit of my faith, until the moment I saw how my reliance on him surpassed a work relationship.

“Nat?” Maria’s voice came from behind me, and before I realized it my back stiffened with the traces of a combat reflex that shouldn’t have been active at the moment.

I turned around just in time to see her jog towards me, and seconds after, our bodies collied in a much needed hug. Despite having been deeply abstracted into myself, I found my body could still react in pleasant ways—my arms surrounded the taller woman instinctually, letting her find comfort into the news of me not being dead, just like I was drawing peace from her presence.

“My God, I am so happy to see you.” She didn’t let go, not until we heard Fury’s hawk behind us.

We let go of each other, and right away Fury was next, hugging me… actually hugging me—That had never happened before. “It’s really good to see you, Agent Romanoff.”

The official title made me feel grounded, like I was regaining part of my identity—I wasn’t the quivering mess death had made me, but a strong, independent, badass agent.

Fury let go and positioned himself next to Maria, both of them staring at me, probably expecting me to say something in response to their nice words of acceptance and happiness. I thought my voice wouldn’t come to the surface until I felt him hover behind me, not quite touching me, but not exactly giving me the personal space considered healthy between two people who weren’t even together.

“It’s good to be back,” I said as I clenched the muscles of my stomach. “I haven’t quite habituated myself to be around people again. But it is nice to come back to this.” I looked around and then back at Fury. “I’m glad you are keeping it alive.”

Maria intervened before Fury could respond. “Can I assume you are joining us in training?”

I wanted to confirm it, but the uneasiness inside me still made me nauseated. “Maybe little by little, I don’t how much of it my mind can take.”

No one asked what I surely imagined would be endless questions about death and the afterlife. I appreciated it because I didn’t think I could handle talking about the never-ending loop I still lived in dreams. I had faced so many terrible situations, Russia and America were filled with thousand of war memories for me, and still hadn’t threatened my sanity in the way Vormir had. The ugliness of it only reiterated my decision as the correct one—Clint, after having faced Loki and being stripped from the control of his own mind and body, had been through enough. I had made the right call, I had been the obvious choice… though I was pretty sure he would still disagree with me.

“If you want to, you can start with me before burying the boys’ egos on the ground without opportunity of ever returning.” Maria's offer beckoned for me, and I had no other choice but to accept, not only because I didn’t want to fail on what it could be the first step of my recovery, but also because the camaraderie felt so natural and enticing it made me feel at home once more.

“Alright.” It was time to get my head out of the sand. “Lead the way.”

*****

My bodycrashed against the floor one more time while Bucky stood proud in front of me, barely sweating. Not that I was counting, but it felt like the tenth time I ended up on the floor.

Bucky offered me a hand and waited. “So what’s really going on?”

I didn't wan to admit I was feeling extremely distracted by the “new” presence that had recently joined us at the training complex. “Nothing. I lost my footing.”

“That excuse might have worked the first time,” Bucky said while he regained his stance. “Ten times in a row blow your cover up.”

“It’s just new, okay?” I just couldn’t get habituated to the spark that had recently awoken in its entirety.

He threw me that confused look to which I had grown accustomed. “Having _Natalia_ around? What are you talking about, dude?”

The way he said his name brought back memories and questions at the same time. Before I could answer and clarify his confusion—or even try to seek some light to shed over mine—I saw myself under attack, and I had no option but to do my best to dodge his fists and kicks.

We had become much more than soldiers, the army had helped us develop our values, but after the war we had evolved into so much more. We still had a lot to learn, I was in no position to feel superior to anyone—I was only human—and romance was one of those fields where I knew next to nothing.

When I was finally able to catch my breath I spoke again. “I mean feeling this way.” It all had been very platonic before the blip. Then I just started feeling everything so intensely, and I still couldn’t find the moment to act on it.

“Have you told her what you feel for her?

“No.” And that was a resounding denial.

And just like the soldier he was, he took advantage of my brain taking routes completely different from the training, used his left leg to spin around and kicked me right on the stomach with the right one. I was immediately launched backwards by the strength applied on the attack—honestly, I still considered it had lacked potency. Of course I saw his true intentions as soon as he waved in someone else’s direction before exiting the sparring section.

“Are you okay?” Nat extended her arm and helped me get up.

I nodded while rubbing my abdominals. “How did it go with Hill?”

I was hoping to confirm this hadn’t been a bad idea, that we wouldn’t take ten steps back after trying so hard to reintegrate her into the team, into training… fighting. Only she knew when was enough and how hard to push, but just this once, I could see her hesitance when it came to limits—Natasha was scared of making the wrong choice… or perhaps making the right one.

As a response I got: “I like being out here.” She looked back at the door through which she had arrived. “I can feel my body responding—I have the reflexes, the flexibility, strength, speed… everything is there.”

“But?” I knew her all too well to just let it go.

“But my mind is the real problem.” She looked downwards, and when her eyes lifted again, what I saw worried me beyond rational limits. “I don’t know how to fix the broken pieces.”

My heart clenched painfully, craving to reach out to her and sooth the pain. “Tell me how to help you.” But this time I was facing an enemy I could not see nor touch, to vanish it would be the hardest mission I had ever faced.

In response to my request, she took a step forward and placed her hands on my chest. There where she touched, the fire spread and reached every nerve. For some reason I had never noticed the thickness and intense color of her eyelashes, covering slightly those yellow-doted green eyes.

“Thank you for making me come here.” I took that as the first step on my plan to help her, somehow I could still do something about it despite it being a ghost. “That helps. They all do”—she paused, stretched and balanced herself on tiptoes, and kissed my cheek, slow and prolonged—“you do.”

My hands pressed instinctively on her hips—place towards where I didn’t feel them moving—and tried to get her closer to me. I had already become and addict to the way she smelled, the way she felt against me.

“Thank you for coming with me.” I wanted to say more, but my vocal chords could only expel so much. “Will you come tomorrow too?”

“Of course,” she said without hesitating.

*****

Three days went by. Our routine was set, and training alongside Hill was part of it. My mind still suffered from sudden spasms, filled with images that draw the panic across my chest and into my nervous system—I did my best every time to try and resist the urge to crouch and sway from one side to the other, helplessly suffering the effects of a panic attack combined with pure anxiety. My jaw hurt from the clenching, and it never really went away, neither the pain nor the overwhelming memories… the feeling of concrete against my skull.

By the end of our sparring I was so physically drained as mentally. However, I could feel my body habituating itself to the demanding rhythm of fighting, of being a superhero once more, and as I undid the straps of my four ounces gloves I heard his footsteps—he was approaching with such a confident march that spoke volumes of the decisiveness in his mind. I discovered how much my senses had actually sharpened themselves as a defense mechanism, and noticing things like this were now normal to me.

“Nat?” Many people called me that way— _Clint did. Clint. You should talk to Clint. He believes you dead—_ but for some reason when he said it, my heart started kicking my ribs with much more force than usual. “I wanted to talk to you—I want… to ask you something.”

When I looked at him I could perceive the nervousness in his eyes, in his voice. I could swear a small part of me got to see beams of sweat sliding down his temples—which could be due to training… _His shirt is clean. He changed, which means he finished a while ago._

Steve’s eyes moved anxiously, and too fast, to my left, towards the end of the room. We weren’t alone, Maria was there with us, and she looked beyond amused. I pondered on it for a second, and wondered if I should have asked her to leave us… then I considered it rude and totally not my call. So I let Steven Rogers suffer.

“Sure, what is it?” It was my turn to look at Maria, and I couldn’t help but to smile and share a look of complicity with her—she may, or may have not, mentioned Steve had definitely been showing himself much more protective, even a bit territorial, when it came to me. We both knew what that meant.

“Umm, I just—” He paused for a second, scratched his nape, and then looked back at the two guys at the entrance of the locker room, both laughing—Bucky and Sam must have been behind of whatever was going on. “I wanted to know if you, umm…”

By the third stutter, Hill and the boys weren’t even trying to hold back their giggles. I, with the help of years and years of exercising control over my emotions and physical reactions, I was able to keep it in longer than them, however, the corners of my lips were pulling and my satisfied smile was impossible to hide.

We were grown-ups, but I couldn’t help but feel like a teenager all over again, Steve did that to me. And more than that, I was happy to be home, to be with all of them.

All of the sudden, the blonde man stopped whispering and hesitating. “I would love to treat you to dinner,” he said with the confidence of a man who had lived during World War II, participated in it, and was still alivemore than eighty years after. “Would you go out on a date with me?”

Then it was my time to stutter. “I—yeah, I mean…”

I didn’t get to hear an answer to that. The door outside the locker room was slammed so hard we all jumped into action, running towards the sound like the soldiers we were. Funnily enough, I felt much more prepared to get into a physical confrontation than to face Steve and those intense, deep blue eyes of his.

“Where is she?!” I recognized the voice yelling even before seeing him.

Fury was holding him by the shoulders, pushing backwards as Bruce stood right behind him, blocking his way and aiding the former director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

I was aware of how big an error had been to hide my coming back to life from Clint, and now that I saw him struggling to get past my friends, looking frantically for me, I couldn’t help to feel like the worst person on the face of the earth.

When he saw me, all motion ceased. “Natasha.” His eyes showed incredulity, hurt, and something more I couldn’t quite decipher. “You really are here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.  
> As always, feel free to comment. Feedback is always well received.
> 
> Have a nice day and stay safe!


	6. Unwanted Battles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> I'm back with another chapter.  
> We'll see where we go from here.
> 
> Happy reading!

Well, I was so screwed. I knew I had chosen the wrong path by hiding it from Clint, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to face him. So many reason behind such stupid call, so many ghost to face at the same time. The fragility of my mind faced a new threat, rooted in every single thing that had provoked my nightmares since coming back—Clint had been there, he had been the last face I saw, he had been the last person I held, he had try to save me and he had seen me died.

“Man, you need to calm down.” Steve stepped further into the protective barrier Fury and Bruce had created. “Let’s talk about this, alright?”

I could hear his words, but for some reason the meaning of the kept getting lost in the swarm of bad memories my mind was seeing as a fucking television show. I wanted to say something, I wanted to explain myself, to ask for forgiveness, but my mouth remained closed and my feet glued to the floor.

Maria’s hands were placed on my shoulders, Sam and Bucky flanked me as if providing protection, and Steve stood right in front of me, his back towards me.

“You had no right to keep it from me!” Clint yelled again.

“Barton, listen—”

“You should have told us you were going back for her!”

Then Steve toughened his voice, covering it with the steel of Captain America’s will. “I made the decision on my own because I didn’t know if it was gonna work. I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“You should have told me! You weren’t there! I was!”

Fury was pushed aside, and despite having Bruce right in front of him, Clint Barton made his move around the big green hulk and got to Steve in no time. He pushed the soldier by the chest—Steve barely moved, he recovered and moved towards the archer again.

“It wasn’t your call!” Steve finally yelled back and allowed his stance to change to one that warned the other male of imminent danger.

“You weren’t there when it mattered! You were somewhere else! You didn’t see her falling, Rogers!”

“Yeah well, I brought her back!”

Clint pushed him once more, only this time Steve answered and pushed back. The archer was launched backwards, and once he regained his stance he went after the blond soldier once more. I knew I should have stepped in, but my brain could only think on all the damage I was causing to my friends.

Maria pulled me backwards, and for a second, I felt as a damsel in distress, getting cast aside not to get hurt by the two males fighting because of her. I was a bloody assassin for fuck’s sake, what was I doing cowering back as if I didn’t know how to protect myself and others?

In an illuminating moment, I draw strength from every traumatic experience I had faced and survived, every mission that had forged me into the woman I was, and getting rid of Maria’s hold on my arm, I stepped forward and got in the way of the two locomotives that were those men—in a swift movement, right before the next punches impacted on hard-muscly surface, I swept at Clint’s legs while holding Steve by the arm, launching him to the side as the archer lost his footing and fell to the ground. They were both back on their feet with an amazing speed, but they weren’t charging against the other in blind rage anymore.

They both stared at me and then past me towards the other. “Enough.”

“Nat—”

I didn’t even let Rogers finish his sentence, much less when his voice came out accompanied of a warning tone. “No. Cut the bullshit right now,”—I made sure to look at Barton as well—“both of you.”

Then the question I was fearing came into play and my blood froze. “Why didn’t you call me?” Clint asked with enough pain in his voice to go around it for weeks.

I had no real answer for that, or at least none I could reveal being under the scrutiny of all the team members present. No one had moved, all they could do was stare and await. I couldn’t tell if they were more scared of the raging men, or the crazy woman standing in their way.

“I can’t do this right now.” The automatic answer came out of my lips right before I decide to fleet the scene.

*****

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

My head was a mess. I couldn’t find a good reason for her to hide this from me. I could understand Rogers’ explanation of not wanting to give us hope, and then his decision to follow her wishes—I knew he was protecting her. What I didn’t understand was _the_ decision.

“You have to understand she is going through a lot.” Fury had never been of those who hugged a friend, instead he would palm your back an give a good motivational reprimand to get you going—this time, though, he gave more than I expected. “You can’t possibly understand what she went through.”

“I was there, Fury. I saw her falling, I felt it.”

“And yet, you lived and she died for all of us.” And just as I expected, he became harsh.

His word infuriated me. I had tried my best, and she managed to take away the weight of the responsibility off my shoulders. “That wasn’t my call, she didn’t let me—”

“She left us out as well, you know?” he interrupted me with more candor. “We are barely getting her back, and we do not know what she saw after she died, if there was anything at all, or if she fell into an abyss made of nothingness. You have to give her time.”

I could hear him, but somehow what kept monopolizing my thoughts were memories of Natasha—that moment when I couldn’t hold her any longer and she fell, then her body right at the bottom of the cliff, and another one of her body hiding right behind Steve’s, looking at me with something in her eyes I couldn’t quite comprehend… something that hurt me every time I replayed the scene in my head.

“I just wish she had looked for me.”

The moment I had heard she was back, from someone else that wasn’t her, my breath got lost in my throat. I fell to my knees, feeling powerless and hurt beyond repair.

“Why did you tell me?”

“Honestly… it slipped. I knew Natasha needed time, and I didn’t mean to, I just slipped.”

If Fury hadn’t made a mistake, I would still be in the dark when it came to the redhead. That was maddening.

*****

The blond soldier stormed inside the locker room, giving up on his patience and deciding to confront the person who had made the recent incident possible. “What was all that?”

“Did you tell him?” I asked instead of answering his question.

“Do you think I would?” He shot back. “Do you really believe I would do it after you asked me not to?”

That unarmed me, because he was right, I didn’t believe he had been the one to spill information. In all honesty, I was sure it could have been any of the others—that perhaps they had slipped while talking to Clint, taking any real purpose of unveiling the truth away from their hands… I could see it had probably been an honest mistake. Of one thing I was certain, though… it hadn’t been Steve, not even by accident.

“No, I don’t.” Of course I had to take back my accusation… and then I dint exactly do it. “It just took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting any of that.”

While I said the last word I looked him in the eyes, looking for whatever that had taken him to confront Barton in such manner, angry enough to get physical with a team partner… a friend.

I saw something in his eyes as his moved past me to look at Clint right after I managed to separate them, and I knew it had to do with his earlier proposal—he saw a threat. That had taken me by surprise as much as Clint’s arrival.

“What does that mean?” I should have known he would push for more once he felt I wasn’t gonna break under the pressure.

I felt better. My confidence had been starting to rebuild slowly, and it didn’t matter I was still attacked by thousands of nightmares, of memories, all mixed with the sole task of dragging me back down. But despite all that, I had found it easier to shed some light into reality, allowing myself to step out of the shadows and recognize the sweat on may back and forehead as a product of me battling my demons, not as a sign of weakness.

“It means nothing.” I couldn’t go there yet. “I want to leave, I don’t want to do this right now.” That I was now able to escape my _nothing-pleasant_ dreamscape didn’t mean I was gonna open up about it and explain them why darkness frightened me now.

He stilled his gaze as if examining me, pondering on his next step. “Alright.” He made a small pause, stopped himself form turning around and when he faced my way again, I could se he was taking a deep breath, reading himself. “Do you want to go with me?”

The question threw me off. His doubts became mine, and for a second there I felt like I would be invading his space if I followed him to his apartment again. That opened the door for a different kind of thought—Would he give up on his quest for answers, even having me in an enclosed space? Would I be as adamant not to give him what he wanted? Would that be damaging for the path he had wanted us to take before going through such unexpected ordeal? Would he maintain his offer?

“Unless you wanna kick me out already.” I pushed down the feeling of yearning I felt as soon as I left the ball on his court, deciding to ignore anything that made me vulnerable… I couldn’t afford it.

His smile seemed to lighten the mood, and we both breathed. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave kudos, or comment, or anything. Feedback is always well received.
> 
> I'll be working on the next one... in the mean time, have a nice day and enjoy life!!!
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> Be safe!


	7. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here we are again.  
> I apologize for the delay.  
> I hope all of you are staying safe, healthy, and happy.
> 
> Let's start the reading. Enjoy!

**Steve POV.**

Clint’s presence at the training compound had altered everyone’s mood. Natasha hadn’t talked to him since the moment he had showed up ranting about how we all, and specially Natasha, had kept her return as a secret from him—that had been four days ago.

Sam had tried to talk me into pursuing that question I had thrown her way in front of my team mates. The truth was, Natasha didn’t seem to remember any of that conversation—in the end, Clint’s timing had been jus about _“perfect”._ And not only that, because now, my coexisting with Miss Romanoff within the limits of my apartment had been tarnished little by little with the tension we both felt—Barton had insisted to exhaustion that he wanted to stay and train, and so we had been seeing him every day since the interruption.

“I received information about a gang that’s been causing some trouble around New York.”

I returned to the moment as Fury slid a folder across the table, stopping it from falling off the edge right on time. My mind had been a mess lately, and small glitches had been increasing in occurrence.

Fury had been recollecting information that could prove useful to us, tips on where we should go next and whether the dangers needed immediate intervention from the Avengers. We had yet to accept a mission, and if I was honest with myself, I was a bit worried about going back into the field… much more because it involved her, and I couldn’t be certain she was ready to go out there again. I was well aware her mind had fragmented while on Vormir—an experience like that could only leave you broken, and while the fact she was alive, was proof enough of how strong and resilient she was, I had no way of confirming a perfect state of mind.

“Why should we make it our problem? Can’t the police handle that one?” Last time we got involved in _"minor"_ crime issues, we ended up making it such a big mess that the government saw it fit to put leashes around our necks.

“So, you suggest we leave them be? Allow them to cause havoc?” Fury’s reprimand didn’t sit well with the soldier part of me. “We are here, you all did a hell of a job to just waste it. We came back for a reason.”

Then Wanda spoke, and I completely understood her point of view, her necessity of seeing every little detail under control. “Do you have a plan? A way for us to go unnoticed? We don’t know how ready people are for us to show up.”

Wanda didn’t seem happy with the possibility of going back to what had caused so much fear in her own abilities, and I still felt a bit of responsibility for her. Of course, we were on different position, we had all changed, we had all learned.

Fury’s hands clenched together. “Hill and I have been working on some strategies. It helps they have been leaving traces behind because they are using alien tech.”

“What?” That was new. Surely those artifacts had been confiscated years ago. “How did they come by them?”

“We still don't know. Perhaps wreckage of prior attacks.”

I had to agree with Nick Fury’s words. The attacks on earth had been of such magnitude that the remains of the war were still scattered around the globe, and people kept unearthing pieces of evidence every once in a while—there were those who decided to take advantage of it and use the weapons for their own personal gain.

Natasha joined the conversation but didn’t get close to the table, she stayed all the way next to the exit door, while Clint guarded the other end. “How many of us are going? Who is going?”

“We need to be careful on this.” I wasn’t explicit about the true meaning of my concern, but perhaps it wasn’t necessary. _We need to be careful with Natasha’s return to the field._ “Our plan needs to be perfect.”

Despite the fact that everything seemed to be tense with Natasha and the rest of the team, I was doing very little to conceal how much I wanted to protect her. I reckoned she was not a hurt puppy in need of pampering and excessive protection, she was more than capable of taking care of herself, and she had proved just that by the way she had taken upon herself to prevent what would have surely ended up in a nasty fight between Barton and me.

“We are all going except Bruce.” When Fury looked at Wanda, I knew he was trying to assess her reaction and the possibilities of his next sentence being accepted. “You decide if you want to join us or not. I’ll understand whichever decision you make.”

“Perhaps staying it’s a good idea for me.”

“Alright. The rest, Hill will get you up to date. We leave tonight, so get your gear ready.”

Fury stood up and walked out of the meeting room. Leaving Hill behind to give the rest of us the instructions. Natasha and I were assigned to scout around the perimeter, Barton would be on look-out duty, while Sam and Bucky would be on stand by on the ground, waiting for any sign from Natasha and I. We only needed to dismantle the operation and confiscate the weapons they were utilizing to cause havoc around the city—to incarcerate them would be on the New York's justice department, to whom Fury would notify of the gang’s whereabouts once we got rid of the dangerous materials. Bruce and Wanda would look out the fort and send updates on any changes.

Before I could approach Natasha and try to talk her out of going, trying to appeal to logic, and ask her to give the importance needed to her mental health, Barton beat me to the punch and led the red-headed beauty towards the locker rooms.

“You don’t have to go if yo are not ready,” I heard the archer saying with a stern voice, almost as if he were trying to send a command.

My fists clenched harder, and my nails started to dig into my skin mercilessly. I wanted to demand things for which I had no right, I wanted to pull him away from her and yell in his face to back off before I made him. Instead, I let my body rest against the door and just looked at them interact without interfering.

Natasha caught sight of me, but Clint hadn’t seen me yet. Under normal circumstances, he would have felt my entrance way before the woman placed her eyes on me, I knew of what he was capable, however, Natasha’s return and decision to keep him at bay had his brain short-circuiting… and he wasn’t the only one affected.

“We’ll tell Fury, I’ll take your place.”

I had no idea what Barton’s deal regarding Natasha was, but if he thought for a second the woman was going to abandon her mission, he was delusional and an idiot. Realizing this upon seeing Nat’s expression change with anger, made me appreciative of Barton trying before I got the chance—I had been delusional as well, thinking I could perhaps convince her.

Natasha pushed away gently and got rid of his hand. “You have to stop,” said Natasha as she backed down. “You can’t keep doing this.”

I hadn’t seen them interact since the moment Clint had shown his face at the complex, demanding answers. But, clearly, this meant they had been speaking, that Clint had obviously been looking for her, trying to reach her. With what purpose, only they knew. Suddenly, Natasha’s uneasiness around me made more sense—perhaps it wasn’t about me at all, perhaps it had been him all along.

“Nat—”

“No,” she cut his words effectively. “You should have stayed at the farm with Laura and the kids. You didn’t have to come here. We agreed.”

Odd. Her words created hundred of theories in my head, now I was intrigued and I felt myself transforming into a dog with a bone, not being able to let go, no matter how much I told my rational brain to stop the madness—my feelings for Natasha were indeed dangerous.

“You need too stop doing this, Clint. I can’t deal with you right now.”

“Which is another reason for you to stay here.”

He was being overly eager to get her to stay at the complex, borderline anxious. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he—

Afraid of finishing the idea, I allowed his voice to interrupt my crazy thoughts.

“I am just trying to protect you.”

And then I stepped in. “She doesn’t need your protection.” As I said the words, I gave my best effort to believe them myself—She didn’t need mine either.

“Get out of here, Rogers. This is none of your concern.”

“It isn’t yours either, Clint” I looked right into Nat’s eyes and did my best to convey what I was trying to say without words. “Like I said, she doesn’t need your protection, and you should know that by now. Just leave her be and go back to your farm.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He turned around and got so close to me I could feel his enraged breath, everything in his posture indicating he was ready to become a menace to my physical integrity. “Do you have a problem with that?”

I could take on him, that was as certain as the strength of my beating heart, punishing my ribs with the violence of anticipation. But all it took was one look from green pleading eyes for me to back down.

I took a step back to create distance between the two of us. “If you are going to stay, then you better start acting like a soldier, a man, and not like a fifteen year old kid.” I deliberately ignored him, wanting him to feel how little importance his tantrums had in my head. I gave all my attention to Nat and then asked, “Will you be okay on your own?”

I did not need to ask, but I wanted her to confirm she didn’t want me there, dealing with Clint on her behalf… trying to defend her honor. I knew before she answer that tearing my feet off the floor would be excruciatingly painful—I wasn’t one to back down on something I wanted… or someone. It was in my nature.

“Yes.” I could have felt bad for that single, lonely word, but her smile surely diminished the blow, it sugar coated it and it was beyond effective.

“Be careful, Barton. You are stepping on thin ice.” No threat, just a warning. “I’ll see you later, Nat.”

As I stepped out of the room, Maria walked next to me and palmed me on the back. “You’re doing good, Rogers. Just give her time.”

I tried not to let her statement increase my hopes. Clint was a problem, his brazen statements had proven just that. There was something going on there and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Natasha didn’t want me finding out about whatever had caused the archer to become this aggressive whenever she was involved.

I guessed a good, tough mission would be enough to distract my mind. Bullets always demanded focus, bad guys always made good punching bags—the perfect remedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!  
> I hope you liked this chapter.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave a comment.  
> Feedback is always well received.
> 
> Have a nice day and stay safe. Be kind to one another.  
> Until next time.


	8. Honest Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back, I'm so sorry for the delay (work stuff).  
> I hope everyone is alright.  
> Anyway, here it is the next chapter.  
> Happy reading!!!

**Nat’s POV.**

The memories of hours prior to our deployment on the battle field kept circling around my mind. _Steve. Clint._ Everything was a mess. It weren’t exactly the spoken words that had me reeling even when I should have been devoting my focus solely to the task at hand, it had more to do with the meaning behind Clint’s stubbornness, the way Steve had stared directly into my soul and allowed for me to deal with a situation I knew he probably wouldn’t approve.

“I see four of them on the backyard,” I spoke into my intercom, alerting Steve who had taken the front entrance, Clint who had stayed behind as our sniper, and Bucky and Sam who had taken care of the left and right flanks respectively. Hill and Fury were hovering above us—aboard the latest design of the Quinjet—in stealth mode, ready to extract us if anything went wrong. “Only two of them have modified weapons, definitely alien.”

The terrain surrounding the warehouse seemed deserted. It wasn’t a particularly secure zone in New York, so our possibilities of encountering people who weren’t supposed to be there in the first place was close to nil, which I assumed was one of the reasons the gang had selected this location.

_“I have two on my side,”_ Bucky said.

Then Sam’s voiced entered the line. _“I have one, heavily armed.”_

 _“Four out in the open,”_ Steve communicated next. _“And four more scattered on both watchtowers.”_

We all waited for the next instruction. Fury had been clear about wanting to be careful in this mission, to cause the less amount of chaos and wreckage possible—the goal was to reduce everything to a zero percentage of consequences.

 _“Surveillance cameras have been placed on a loop,”_ Hill’s voice entered the communication line, strong, steady, and authoritative. _“You can proceed.”_

 _“Bucky, Sam,”_ Fury called from the sky, _“you go first. Nat, you are next. Clint, when Steve approaches, take out the sentinels.”_

 _“Roger that,”_ Clint responded, and despite Steve’s speaker being inactive, I could hear the displeased snort inside my mind as if he had been right next to me.

I knew I would eventually have to tell him what exactly had happened with Clint and why now I was so adamant to keep him away, why I had decided to keep my return as a secret, but every time I tried to spit the words, feeling the intensity and openness with which he stared back at me, I quailed and look the other way, telling myself I’d do it the next day.

The motion started with a small exchange of signals between Sam and Bucky—we had to recover the weapons and leave Sam to take them back to the jet. However, everything turned hectic too fast.

I made my instructed move, and took two men down. Then I allowed one mistake. I allowed my emotions to be altered by memories that had no place in this mission. Suddenly, a coulisse of purple and black filled with stars bleared my vision and the reddish beam of an altered gun struck me across the stomach and sent me backwards. As I lay on the ground, with voices ringing in my ear, threatening with leaving me completely deaf, other memoirs were activated in a row of unstoppable reminders of how terrible my baggage was, chained to each other with what it appeared to be a material as strong as vibranium—The crash against the concrete, the pain, the blackness that followed, an all-consuming state of loneliness and abandonment, the repetition of an eternal fall… then Steve’s face… then Clint’s face, followed by every mistake I had ever made.

I writhed on the floor, trying to surpass the burning feeling on my stomach, grunting and moaning to myself, when I heard Fury say, _“Clint, don’t! Stay in position!”_ I knew instantly what would happen, and the damage his—or my—carelessness would cause. So, I pushed past the pool of fear and pain, and stood up as a the two remaining men approached me with a resolved attitude.

I punched my way through the pain and confronted them. My stomach sent pulsations of pain across my torso as I threw my fists colliding against dude number one, and then the rotating movement of my body over his to crush his windpipe and send him to the floor to get him out of combat. I lost sight of the second man, and I barely got to dodge his attack before his leg impacted me right on the wounded side.

*****

**Clint’s POV**

Still feeling the trembling of my feet hitting the floor with fury along my legs, I stopped and positioned an arrow on my bow, but right before pulling from it, Natasha swept at his attacker legs and electrocuted him as he fell to the ground, his eyes closed and his mind fell deep into the unconsciousness before hitting the dirt.

“Natasha,” I ran up to her, reaching her as she stood straight, probing at her torso for any sign of an injury that could indicate trouble. Her suit and armor were scorched on the outside, but at plain sight I couldn't determine if her skin had received any damage. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Goddammit, Clint,” she grunted and stepped away before I could place my hand on her arm. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to cover Steve.”

She pushed past me and gather the weapons. Her anger was palpable, and I didn’t like how that made me feel one bit. “Just stop for a second, Nat, please.” This time I didn’t let her back down when I approached her, and so I encaged her wrist in my grip. “You can’t keep running away from me.”

She still shook off violently my hold, deliberately ignoring my demand. “Overwatch, I have the package,” she said as she touched her earpiece. “Ready for extraction.”

 _“Roger,”_ Maria’s voice entered our ears. _“Bucky and Steve got in. Sam’s on the way.”_

“Go back to your post, Barton. You are not needed here.”

Not even ten seconds later, Sam landed right in front of us, carrying a big suitcase. They packed the weapons without sparing me a glance. So, reluctantly, and feeling beyond rejected, I forced my feet to move in the opposite direction, searching for my high ground one more time.

I knew the scolding I would receive as soon as the mission had finalized, not only from Natasha, wouldn't do justice to experiencing Nat's rejection. Fury wouldn’t allow me to forget it, and even Rogers would surely have something to say about it. I knew I had made a mistake, but I couldn’t forget the fear I had felt as soon as I heard Natasha falling, grunting in misery—I had been reminded of Vormir and my futility as friend and fellow soldier. I had never felt so useless as when I saw her approaching the bottom of the cliff, and the pain as I woke up with the stone between my fingers. At that moment, her absence felt as striking and powerful as the deepest and most profound darkness, and no matter how much one tried to make out the contour of one’s own hands, it would be impossible to discern the shapes, not even when placed right in front of one’s face. The only thing that I had been able to do, was press the yellow rock in my palm and walk away, to encounter an incomplete team.

I knew the second I realized she was in trouble that I couldn’t allow myself to stay on the margins as she suffered again. I wasn’t willing to let it happen again. It didn’t matter the level of danger had been exponentially different, I wouldn’t fail her again.

*****

**Steve’s POV**

After our malefactors had been wrapped up as a present for the authorities, and every last resource imprinted with even the smallest trace of alien technology had been confiscated, we parted and left the government authorities to take care of the rest. Our job for the day—night, evening, whatever—was done. Now the patching was in order.

“What the hell were you thinking, Barton?!” Fury yelled at the archer, and I must say the rest of us, although slightly, flinched under the aggressiveness of his tone. “Did I or did I not give you a specific order?!”

“Yeah, you did.”

“And somehow you still chose to disobey me!”

“She was in danger,” Clint responded, collected but still noticeably angry. “I couldn’t let something bad happened to—”

“You let something bad happen!” Fury yelled again, and then pointed at me. “Aren’t you seeing his shoulder?”

One of the sentinels had caught me right as I took out of the game the other three, right on the shoulder, before I could rotate the shield into place to block the attack—the red-purplish blast had tore my skin, diving through the bone and burning a hole into it before exciting on the other side. I already felt the bone, ligaments, and muscle trying to heal, but the power of the ray had been such that even my enhanced abilities were having trouble regenerating the burnt tissue.On the outside, the only thing preventing someone to have a clean view through the telescope that had been carved on my shoulder, was the gauze Natasha was stubbornly pressing against my calcined meat—under the porous white cloth, my skin looked severely burnt. In the beginning, as I marched alongside Bucky towards the inside of the burrow right after getting injured, the bleeding had dictated it wasn’t just a simple wound, but now the flow of the crimson liquid had decreased, mercifully reaching a stagnant state.

Still, I said nothing. I didn’t even bother to look at Clint. Natasha had my undivided attention, and not only her, but also the possible wound laying underneath her armor. I had heard her as well, and if I allowed myself to be arrogant and pretentious, I could affirm I even felt the moment she fell to the ground, clutching her side in pain.

Their voices fell to a mumbling volume, my focus concentrated on Natasha who, kneeling on the bench next to me, continued on pressing insistently against my shoulder, front and back. Her formerly blond locks, now restored to its original red and showing only the tips of the paler color, kept brushing my neck and upper shoulder every time she leaned closer to inspect both ends of the wound, and having my suit removed and my shirt ripped partially to facilitate access, I could feel the caresses directly over my skin.

I couldn’t quite decipher if the the blur effect bothering my sight was caused by her perfume, or if it had to do more with the blood loss of minutes ago. “Are you okay?” The amount of self-control I’d had toutilize not to run after her and send the whole mission to hell, could be described as excruciatingly painful. As I ran straight to the wolf’s den—Bucky next to me, whispering words of encouragement, trying to convince me she did not need me to save her—my mind pictured thousands of dioramas describing thousands of terrible outcomes. “I heard you,” I continued when I didn’t receive a response from her. “I was worried. I wanted to help you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she whispered right next to my ear, her fingers retreating the gauze and exchanging the already soaked fabric. “You stayed where you were needed.”

“What if you had actually needed help?”

“Well, for one, Clint got there, and still, I didn’t need someone to save me.” I opened my mouth to retort but she placed her palm on my cheek and interrupted the soundless complaint. “I’m fine, look at me, Steve.” Her eyes were locked on mine, demanding my full attention, with all those emerald sparks igniting the shadows inside the ship. “Everything turned out alright. And I’d really like to believe you didn’t run after me because you trusted I could do it on my own.”

Although it felt good to receive her approval and contentment with my decision, I had to admit an entirely fifty-fifty regarding the real reasons for which I decanted myself to proceed with the mission. My entrails were burning with the desire to go find her and get her out of harms way, but how could I do that? How would have that made me look? I knew her perfectly well. I knew her abilities. I knew how lethal she could be. I knew of what she was capable, and the soldier within her did not require saving, no matter what she had gone through. Vormir could have been a traumatic experience, no one else knew how dying was except for her, and only she knew how to deal with it.

“I knew you could handle it.” I smiled at her, and I even dared to lift my right hand to brush my knuckles on her forearm as she resumed her task, a fleeting caress designed to transmit love and settle my heart at the same time. _Honest, be honest,_ I told myself. “But, I have to admit it was one of the hardest things I have ever done.” 

“I know, but I’m grateful for it.” She caught my hand before it fell onto my lap. “Thank you for trusting me and resisting.”

“Sure. But if I lose my arm, you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You won’t lose the arm.”

“Pray for it. It might happen, and then you'll owe me.”

The smile and playful snort were enough to put me at ease, enough to battle the pain.

*****

As I lay on the med bay, a machine trying to reconstruct, or at least help my healing abilities regain their effectiveness, the discussion going on outside the crystal walls had heated up to the point where Clint had had to been dragged to the opposite side of the room in order to keep him and Bucky from punching each other.

“You’re awake.” Natasha waltz into the room, out of nowhere, taking me by surprise and forcing me to berate myself for not being much more aware of my surroundings. “How are you feeling?”

Instead of answering her question, I decided it was time to voice out the one that had been bothering me since the moment I realized Clint’s reaction couldn’t have only been caused by the betrayal he felt for us keeping Natasha’s return as a secret.

“Why is Barton acting like that?” I asked as she reached my side and held my hand. “There’s something more you aren’t telling me, Nat. I want to know what it is because none of this makes sense.”

Instantly, as if her skin had been burnt, she pulled away, clearly upset by my intrusive questioning. When I tried to capture her again, my hand fell on her torso and grabbed the fabric of a new leather jacket I hadn’t seen before, but the sudden movement also provoked a small collision of my knuckles agains her side, and she reacted by bending forward slightly.

“You’re injured,” I said as I got out of bed and forced her to sit on my place, not caring my arm still felt like jello and that the machine started beeping the second I exited its range. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m fine.”

After knowing Natasha for so long, I read her reaction as a representation of a chip in her armor, which should have never been there in the first place, which led me to believe the injury was much more serious than she wanted to admit.

Fury and Hill entered the room in a flash, sporting worried grimaces. Their eyes traveled from the redhead beauty to me over and over again, waiting exasperatedly for a response, an explanation to why I was standing and disregarding my doctor's orders while Natasha occupied my former bed.

Natasha grabbed my wrist and pressed, tight and with a tone of urgency. She wanted me to keep my mouth shut, she did not need to say the words out loud for me to know she wanted me to keep her dirty little secret... well, secret.

“What’s going on here, Rogers?” Fury asked when his patience reached a breaking point.

“You should be in bed, Cap,” Hill said. “The reconstruction is almost done, but you have to be patient and let our tech do its job.”

Then Natasha whispered, “Steve, please.” Her eyes give me a painstaking plead, almost as a warning.

I knew then she would be pissed at me because I had already made my decision. She would have to understand I wasn’t about to let her suffer when she took my health so seriously. This was a two way street, which is why I steeled my features, clenching my jaw and reading myself for the look of betrayal or/and disappointment I would get from her.

I let out a huff and as I locked my eyes to hers, and I said to Fury and Maria, “She got injured in the battle.”

“Steve!” Natasha whined, hurt and surprised.

She let go of my wrist, and I felt it as a whip punishing my skin… my soul. “I’m pretty sure it was with one of those blast weapons.” She rolled her eyes at me and crossed her arms over her chest, telling me with her closed stance that she was pushing me away. Still I kept going, knowing it would take something big for her to forgive me—no matter, my brain was already making plans to beg for her forgiveness later. “It must be worse than she wants me to know,” I gave Maria a pointed look. “She almost bent to her knees when I accidentally touched her.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Natasha muttered only for my ears to intercept the words.

“I’m sorry, darling, but you need it.” I turned around to face the two shadows witnessing our exchange and with the straightest face I could summon I said, “I won’t go back to bed until she receives treatment.”

And that was it. Natasha didn’t look back at me even once as we waited patiently—well, not really, more like resignedly—for the machines to speed up our healing. It was obvious mine would be finished way before hers due to the everlasting serum running through my veins, so as soon as the machine beeped its final melody and the red lasers got deactivated, I stood up, put my new shirt on and exited the med bay without looking back at her.

I had one goal in mind, and perhaps wasn’t the best plan I had ever formulated, but I was tired of Natasha keeping things from me. The thing with Clint had me skipping hours of sleep at night, and having the former spy resting so close to my room, apart by only two walls, wasn’t helpful at all. A part of me believed if she had wanted to tell me, she would have done so by now, and it was that part that decided to track down the archer, even when another—tiny—part within myself tried to yell at me and beg me to stop, to convince me she would eventually share said information with me. Of course, the attempts of my angel turned out to be futile—Instead, I followed the devils' orders and found the blond man doing an inventory at the armory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly hope you enjoyed this bit.  
> Feel free to speak about it, comments and kudos are always well received. Thank you!!!


	9. Fading Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I offer you my deepest apologies. I got caught up with some issues and couldn't finish this until now.  
> However, I'm here now, and I hope to upload the next one faster.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Steve’s POV**

“What’s the deal then?”

Clint turned around as I spoke the words in a harsh and unyielding tone. I needed him to know I was not about to tiptoe around the subject, leaving the archer with no other option than to come clean. If Natasha wasn’t gonna speak to me about it, then I might as well obtain my answers somewhere else.

He turned around and faced me with a deep scowl. “What are you talking about?”

“Please, Barton, don’t insult my intelligence.” I walked up to the wall opposite to him and leaned back in a relaxed pose. “I know something is up and I want you to tell me why you are so dead-set on pestering her day and night.”

He did not answer right away. Within my head, a hundred scenarios surged in a horde, all of them with explanations to their odd behaviors that I knew I would find daunting and hurtful. My biggest hypothesis was the scariest, and also the most likely to have happened—I hated to think about it, because if it was true, it meant not only I would be an affected party by Natasha and Clint’s shenanigans, our relationship and trust would be sullied as well, because whether I wanted to admit it or not, she hadn’t deemed me worthy enough to share this situation with me.

“Why don’t you ask her?” He grabbed a towel and started cleaning his hands, giving the task more attention than needed, pushing my irritation to the limits.

“Unlike you, Barton, I know when to leave a girl alone.” _Pure bullshit._ “You had no right to barge in here and act the way you’ve been acting.”

He changed visibly, his stance morphed and his face adopted an expression I had only seen once before.“What is it to you? You do not fit in any of it.” He approached the center of the room, and I had to contain myself in order to keep a safe distance, otherwise my fists would end up doing all the talking. “It is none of your business!”

“You made it my business when I got my shoulder blown up because of you!”

It wasn’t a lie, but I knew that could have easily been forgotten. The real issue was the fact Natasha was not talking to me anymore, she had shut down while keeping me outside, and boy, it hurt like a bitch. Everything had started the moment Clint arrived to the headquarters making demands I considered out of place.

He kept quiet, looking to the ground instead of meeting my angry gaze. “I want the truth, Clint. And I want it right now. I won’t leave this room until you tell me what the heck is going on.”

“We slept together, alright?!” His yell made the room spin, then abruptly stop, then wobble once more as I felt my knees threatening to give in.

It turned out I had been correct all along. My mind tuned out immediately, separating the real world from my relentless and detrimental thoughts. Her face was everywhere, and my blood reacted with rage and violence to the confirmation of my very awful suspicions. Then, my thoughts took a sharp left turn, because experiencing pain on my own wasn’t enough, I also had to feel sorry for other people— _Stupid sympathetic reflexes._

“What about Laura?” My voice barely escaped the choking knot in my throat.

This was the wrong thing—or the correct, depending on how one viewed this whole situation—to say, because Barton flinched visibly under my scrutiny and merciless interrogation. “She knows.”

“You told her?” I pressed a bit further, trying to obtain more upon seeing his defeated expression.

“I had to. We weren’t together at the time”—he scratched the back of his head in a nervous tick—“it was just that—” He cut his words, took a deep breath and continued. “She wasn’t happy with me, she didn’t feel safe. So, I was asked to give them space, and I did.”

“How does Natasha fit in all that?” I had to know, I just had to know how it had happened and why.

“She was there for me. She helped me navigate it and feel less… like a failure.”

In a fit of anger, he turned around and threw the rag in his hands against the wall, the piece of fabric not really causing damage at all. And despite having chosen the most inoffensive item to give his rage an exit, the rapid and violent movement, along with his contorted features, expressed how frustrated this whole issue made him feel.

So, what now? Was I supposed to feel bad for the man? Or continue to harbor my grudges and jealousy seeing the evident threat he represented for what I wanted to build with Natasha?

“We were drinking way too much,” he continued. And man, that actually made me feel a lot better. “The next morning she asked me not to bring it up again. She felt terrible for doing that to Laura, and I guess the guilt was the thing driving her when she decided to put distance between us. Then at Vormir…”

Clint was right, we had all seen Natasha at their farm—guilt must have been gnawing at her all this time. Part of me wondered if her decision to sacrifice herself instead of allowing Barton to take the leap had been guided by that desire of making things right, of compensating.

The mere thought crushed my heart in an iron fist, squishing it beyond repair. Perhaps, her silence had nothing to do with mistrust, could be related to shame or regret. I truly hoped so, otherwise, what could I do to actually gain her trust and expect for her to lean on me when needed. Natasha was an astounding woman, I was well aware of her independence and the strength that constituted the person she had grown to be, but even the best needed a shoulder on which to lean from time to time… or so I hoped.

“When I found out she had come back, and that she had kept it a secret…”

“What do you want now?” I interrupted him, not sure I could hear the rest of his thought. That was the main issue, wasn’t it? All that was in the past, their slip had happened even before Vormir, which was why there was no reason for him to pursue her now. “Why can’t you just let it be and forget about it?”

“I can’t,” Barton said right away.

“Why?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Rogers.” He turned around and picked the gear he had been inventorying when I interrupted his process. “I am really sorry you got hurt because of me. That was in no way professional, and I regret it. But, like I said before, whatever I am doing, whatever I am feeling, it’s none of your business.”

*****

**Natasha’s POV**

The voices weren’t nearly as loud as she had expected after the small nap she had been forced to take on top of that medical bed. The team was reunited outside of the med-bay, speaking of formations, and strategies, duties, and who knows what else—my mind was still foggy, so the words didn’t make much sense just yet.

“What’s going on?” I asked Hill as she strolled past me holding an electronic pad with things I couldn’t quite see.

She simply said—“New mission”—and disappeared into the next room.

The next person I found was Wanda, and she, just like the rest, was dressed in her soldier attire, all black, personalized with only a few details in red here and there. She seemed to see past me, and didn’t spare even a glance in my direction until I grabbed her by the wrist and gave her a quizzical look.

“Oh, sorry, Nat.” She turned completely and waited patiently until I formulated the question.

“What’s this new mission I hear about?”

“Well, Fury and Hill discovered the operation you guys dismantled was nothing but a small piece of a bigger puzzle.” Her eyes didn’t stop moving from corner to corner, looking for someone else.

It was evident to me she was going out this time. “When are we leaving?” She looked too nervous for me to sweep it under the rug. There was something I didn’t know—aside from apparently everything about this stupid new mission—and I wanted a brief on it, ASAP. “Wanda.”

“Actually, you are not going.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s only Steve and I.”

On cue to her statement, Steve excited the meeting room, followed by a frowning Fury. Both men approached us, and Fury started filling me in on the details before they even stopped walking, but my attention was only partially on him—I heard him, I understood his words, and I received an explanation as to why I wasn’t going with them on this particular endeavor, however, the rest of me was too caught up in the way Steve kept avoiding making eye contact with me.

“So, you are benching me because of my wound?” Instinctively my palm fell on my side, right were the wound had been and my skin felt still somehow tender. “It’s healed now.”

“I can’t risk you out there, Romanoff.”

“Fury—”

“We are all trying a new approach to this whole hero-ing thing. I want everyone to be more careful when it comes to their physical integrity. This is how it will be now.”

I couldn’t say much about it. It was indeed a new era, a new time in our journey that demanded for certain sacrifices, modifications, and adjustments in order to maintain everyone safe and sound. Funnily enough, Steve’s attitude bothered me more than the fact I was being left out.

“Why is he going?” I attacked the blond man before I could stop myself. “He was injured, and way worse than me.”

“He has a special serum that makes him heal faster,” Fury counterattacked my hook with a straight jab to my pride. “And, like I said. It’s more about recon than anything else. Their orders aren’t to engage.”

Wanda and Fury followed suit as Hill called for all of them. Steve seemed to hesitate for a second, still looking at the ground, admiring both of our shoes, but finally he turned around without sparing me even a glance, and jogged to catch up with the trio ahead of him.

The words got stuck in my throat, and my heart kept pounding inside my chest with renewed panic, trying to escape and chase after the man now seemingly pissed at me.

Deciding to confront the problem head on, I ran after them, and before Steve could mount on his bike, I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled the brick wall he was to a far corner, away from curious ears and eyes. He looked at me expectantly, never saying a word, not even blinking, and now that he was giving me his full attention, part of me wanted to take it back and let him go back to avoiding joining our stares.

“What’s going on?”

Before I fell into a weird dream inside the med-bay, waiting patiently for my treatment to be over, I had been the one frowning at the soldier, but for some reason, the roles had been inverted during my time unconscious. I had felt him exit the room even though not entirely conscious of it, I just knew I had felt him leave, and then, I had still refused to look at him after selling me to Fury and Maria. How was now him the one looking indignant?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you can think of a better answer.”

“I have to go, Natasha.”

Inadvertently, my brain—and heart—had grown to enjoy the uttering of my name in a shortened fashion, for which it was a surprise—not pleasant at all—to hear him using the whole length of it. Even his tone of voice had been slightly altered, modified during our time of recovery.

I wanted to say something more on the matter, dig deeper and try to get him to express whatever that was bothering him, but my fear and pride won. “Alright. Be careful out there,” I said as I let go of my grip on his wrist, which I hadn’t noticed had stayed stubbornly locked on him. “Take care of Wanda.”

As soon as my fingers slipped away, he turned on his heels and made his way back to the transport, too fast and eagerly for me not to suspect foul-play. Something had happened after he exited the med-bay, and I had to find out what exactly had affected him so exceedingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> Feel free to comment on it, your words are always welcome.
> 
> Have an awesome day!  
> Stay safe!!!


	10. Painful Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uff. Hello, there.
> 
> I want to start by apologizing for taking so damn long in posting the next one.  
> I just found myself in a very busy schedule in the past few months and I had to deal with lots of stuff. Luckily my first book has been published and all is more tranquil now.
> 
> Of course, I hope all of you are well and enjoying the holidays.  
> This is just a small gift for you to enjoy before or after the parties.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Steve’s POV**

_“…whatever I am feeling, it’s none of your business.”_

Barton’s words kept replaying inside my head like a broken record, provoking lacerations in my now mauled pride. He had feelings for her, that was clear enough to turn into a blinding ray of light that burnt everything around it. The boiling anger in my chest was overwhelming, and the skin of my wrist, there where Natasha had placed her fingers, felt scorched and bruised, working as a reminder of Clint’s confession.

I hated it. I hated the fact he had somehow managed to sully whichever image I’d had of her. But, the optimistic and stubborn side of me kept calling me stupid, reminding me I couldn’t just let a man taint the image of the woman I— It wasn’t fair, not when she hadn’t had the opportunity to explain, or trust in me to begin with. But it was painful, and it had been a long time since I had felt this way… a long, long, time.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?” Wanda asked, pulling me successfully out of my overwhelming thoughts.

We remained hidden amongst the trees and the foliage around us, utilizing the natural shadows to conceal our figures. And, amongst so much darkness, her voice sweet but with a spice in it that made me think she was onto something specifically, worked as a sort of beacon, a light that helped me return to where I was supposed to be. Wanda was a good girl, and I had always felt a certain obligation towards her, like one would experience when it came to a little sister.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The repetition of the words drove me back to the moment before turning the ignition of the motorcycle and let it roar beneath me as I ran away from her.

“Come on, Steve,” she said with a taint of annoyance. “I know you better than you think. Something’s bothering you, and I suspect it has something to do with a certain redhead.”

I looked over my shoulder in her direction, cursing myself for being so damn transparent. Natasha had managed to get so deep into my skin, that now, whomever looked my way, could decipher the reason behind my scowl.

I still had no idea of how I was going to deal with Clint’s confession. I wasn’t quite ready to confront her, I knew myself enough to know that my temper would get the best of me and the good soldier I had always portrayed would be relegated to oblivion in order to allow the jealous man to surge forward. Of course I wasn’t a moron, I knew perfectly well why I felt so despondent, but I wasn’t ready to admit it, neither to myself and much less to her.

I shook my head form side to side, wishing the younger girl would let go of the subject. “It’s not a good time.”

But she already had an answer prepared. “We will probably be hours stuck in here. Fury doesn’t seem ready to grant us green light, and surely, chatting about your almost inexistent romantic life won’t be that much of a distraction.”

“Ouch.” I clutched my chest, feigning a wound. “Have you heard of the male pride?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” she said jokingly. “Now spit it out.”

“You surely know how to lift someone’s spirits.” I repositioned myself against the tree, taking the seconds to collect myself and come up with a coherent and not so lame response. “I found out something about Nat that got me overthinking and second-guessing everything I thought there could be between us.”

That was it. Without airing her secrets—because yes, it was still her secret—and keeping myself from exposing how much this was fucking me up. Without mentioning that my conciseness also kept Clint undercover.

Wanda seemed to maul on it for a few seconds, perhaps minutes, always looking ahead and keeping an eye on the entrance we had been told to guard. “So, you found out something that’s been difficult to deal with…”

“Yeah.”

“Did she tell you about it? How did you find out?”

Before she even finished her questions I was already shaking my head, regretting the way I had found out about the issue. “No. She never mentioned it. And I don’t know if she had planned on ever unveiling that information. But, now I don’t know what to do.”

Some shadows alerted us of movement at the rest of the entrance—three men exited the shadows and jogged towards the door that led into what we believed was the base of operations of our new friends. No boxes in sight, no armament or anything of the sorts that could tell us this was indeed where they stored all their goods. After having cleaning their last warehouse, the rest of locations had been emptied, so this had to be the place where their weapons had been relocated. That was what we were trying to discover.

“Fury, we have three men entering the location. No cargo in sight.”

“Roger that, stay put. Hill is scanning the backyard. Be ready to mobilize.”

“Copy. Standing by for instructions.”

Fury’s voice quieted down and Wanda and I were left again on our own. I was still expecting some sort of advice on how to handle my current predicament. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep avoiding talking to Natasha about the subject—she lived with me, goddamnit. I needed to have an answer, a plan, a way to proceed and not worsen our situation.

“Is it still happening?” Wanda asked, and her words almost made me choke on my own saliva.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Whatever happened with Natasha, whatever it is you found out about her… Is it still happening or is it in the past?”

“It’s in the past,” I said right away, as sure of it as of the beating heart inside me.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I guess—”

The explosion came before I could complete the sentence, and in one second, my mind switched gears and thoughts—one second I was thinking about Nat, and the next I was running towards danger, looking for the one person who was trapped in a precarious position.

**Natasha’s POV**

“You did what?!” Clint’s words made no sense inside my head— _So that’s why he’s pissed at me._ “How could you do that? We agreed we would never dig up the past! It was a mistake, it’s still a mistake, and you had no right to tell him a thing!”

“Nat, please…”

“No!” I shook my arm violently when he placed his hand on my shoulder. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you right away I had come back?! Why do you think I didn’t want to be alone with you?! It’s because I didn’t wanna speak about it. I wanted it to stay buried!”

“You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen!”

“We had been doing it for so long!”

“Now it’s different! You are here!” He gesticulated wildly with his arms, looking frantically around him as if he didn’t know where to focus his anger. “After Vormir, after everything we went through, you are here, Nat.”

The look on his eyes made no sense to me. It was almost as if he was a different person, someone entirely different from the man I had left behind at that cliff. A part of me felt guilty for shutting him out, for avoiding him all this time, but after hearing the slip-up committed with all intention, I convinced myself hiding from him had been the right thing to do. Now Steve knew it and clearly his image of me had been tainted by the truth Barton had decided he could reveal.

“The fact that I came back from the dead doesn’t mean we can now try whatever you think we had before.” I was probably never gonna drink ever again, and yes, I had been filled with alcohol almost to impossible limits, but loneliness had also played a huge factor.

“Natasha—”

“No!” I was so sick of hearing him saying my name like that, as if I had been acting like an irrational and demented person. “What about Laura? Your kids? Don’t you see?! You got them back, Clint!!!”

That sent him into a spiral of thick silence, so powerful and overwhelming even I felt it. I’d had to use them in my favor, and not only for me, but also for him—he seemed to be so blinded by the past he couldn’t even see what was in front of him.

“You were so devastated when you lost them.” I still remembered the state in which I’d found him: pain had consumed him to the point where he almost became the living representation of rage. “We did this for them. I sacrificed myself for them. And don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I’m back, but if I had to do it again, I would. Which is why you have to stop this nonsense. It’s enough.”

I was feeling so drained, so weak, from having to battle against his incessant madness and nonsensical advances that my voice started losing all power—I had no more volume, nothing to make my voice resonate.

Steve’s face kept circling around my mind, his deflated expression covering my mind like a mantle of sadness and stress. I couldn’t believe the one thing I knew could’ve fucked up my possibilities with him, the one thing I knew I would have to confess with as much sensitivity and tact as possible, had been confessed by the wrong person in the worst moment. No wonder Steve had shut me out.

“I came here to win you over, Natasha.”

My eyes rolled to the back of my head almost involuntarily. “You have to stop, Barton. This is stupid.”

I turned on my heels and stormed out the room, slamming the door behind me without caring the vibration of the glass, threatening to crumble down into pieces—at the moment, that was the exact representation of how I felt internally.

I had to fix things with Rogers, and that was it, nothing else mattered. I owed it to him, not only because of what I felt for him, but because he had risked it all to bring me back, and if that didn’t speak volumes of the feelings he could have possibly been harboring towards me, then I didn’t know what else could prove that we could actually work.

**Steve’s POV**

“Rogers!”

The explosion sent me a few yards backwards, the only object there to stop the motion of my body was the trunk of a tree, and my shoulder resented the impact. The things around me kept spinning, swirling with violence and making me dizzy.

Hill’s voice rang in my ears, loud but blurry, I was certain I could only perceive the tone of her desperation due to the abilities I had been granted thanks to that serum that had given me the means to be the soldier I always knew I could be.

“I’m here. I’m alive.”

“Wanda is in trouble at the end of the glade!”

“I’m on it.”

I didn’t even think it twice. I got rid of the damn helmet covering my sight, now half broken due to the explosion. The liberation of my skull felt violent, as if the pressure of the shell had been containing a gigantic headache.

I ran straight towards the place where Wanda had been seen last, not caring about falling into the enemy's sight. I collided against some of them, shoving their bodies out of my way, perhaps with much more force than intended.

By the time I reached Wanda, she was surrounded by a group of at least ten. “Where the hell did they come from?” Lately I found myself cursing more and more, and I didn’t know why I just couldn’t stop.

“Underground,” Fury said. “I have Hill. Retreat as soon as possible.”

“I’m on it.”

Wanda had been hurt, I could see her limping and trying to stay on her feet with struggle. My blood started boiling immediately, and my fists translated such emotions with an accuracy that should have scared me. Instead, I just keep on pushing them out of my way to get to her, the words of another woman ringing in my head like a mantra— _Take care of Wanda. Take care of Wanda. Take care of Wanda.—_ and pushing me to the limits effectively.

The laser beams seemed much more dangerous than before, as if somehow, they had enhanced their reach and power. My speed was the only thing keeping me inches away from having my body perforated once more.

Then everything changed, in one single second—I heard the scream and saw the younger girl falling to the ground, along with her red energy fading into sparkles, licking the air before retreating into her weakening body. I saw her looking at me, and then closing her eyes as she perceived the gun aiming at her.

I moved instinctually. I strived yo reach her position and the last inches vanished as I launched myself forward, using my own body like a human shield as I threw the one made of vibranium into the attackers’ direction.

I felt the perforation at the same time Wanda’s hands were placed on my shoulders. The contrast in both feelings were so abrasive I couldn’t believe there were two sensations so opposite in nature. At least she was safe, she had been taken care of, just like I had been told to do.

**Natasha’s POV**

“What do you mean he’s not in the med-bay?”

Word of Steve getting hurt one more time had circled around the compound like a disease, everyone heard about it, but most of us hadn’t even seen the soldier returning from the mission. Now I was just finding out that he had skipped the mandatory time in the med-bay.

Hill nodded, and repeated the info only this time with a different phrasing. “He got here, got patched up, and left.”

“What do you mean he left?” I felt like an idiot repeating the information I was receiving, but I honestly couldn’t decipher what on earth was happening with Steve. “He’s hurt.”

“Well, the shield hit the attacker just in time, which caused the blast to redirect and hit Steve on the ribs. And it was nothing but a graze, so he insisted he didn’t need the treatment. He let the nurses take care of the wound superficially, and then bolted out.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had spent all that time helping the tech team, distracting myself with chunks of information and data that could help us take this guys down, trying to come up with a way to approach the blond man and fix the damage Clint had caused, just to find out that Steve Grant Rogers had ran away.

“Nobody thought about stopping him?” I was starting to lose my nerve, and that rarely happened.

Maria looked at me with what I could only describe as pity… or perhaps that was my subconscious fucking up the rest of my synapse. “Yeah, with what army?”

“Bruce is here!” I yelled in whispers, trying to tame the beast that was starting to get out of control.

“You mean the adorable and peaceful giant?”

Yeah, it was true. Since Bruce had merged his Hulk self with the scientist, his savage side had somehow been reduced, now they both cohabited and shared life in the most civil way possible.

Truth to be told, what pained me was not the lack of impediment Steve had encountered while escaping the compound, but the fact itself that he had wished to run away. If the goal had been to avoid me wasn’t clear to me—if that hadn’t been the objective, I could’t see the positive side either way, because that meant that he still hadn’t cared at all about what I could have felt.

I didn’t know what else I could say, I had already exposed myself in such a way that I was afraid everyone would see me as the typical vulnerable girl. I was a soldier for fuck’s sake, and now I was pinning after a guy? How the hell had that happened?

“Do you want me to call him back to the base with some excuse or…?”

“No. Leave him. I don’t care, he can take care of himself.” I turned around and started walking, being careful not to load my steps with more strength than needed—I didn’t stomp, I had the grace needed to be soundless and stalk on my prey without ever being heard, so I didn't stomp.

“Nat, wait.” Hill called after me, but my mind was set.

“It’s okay, Hill,” I said over my shoulder, barely sparing her a look. “I’ll be in the training room if anyone needs me.”

“What about the meeting?”

“I found one or two things. Left it with Bruce, he knows the details.” I needed to vent, that was all—I would be ready once I expelled all the negative energy weighing me down. “You can let me in on the details of the mission later.”

If Steve wasn’t gonna be mature enough to face this with me, to talk about it and try to find a way to fix it, then why should I care at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope you liked this one.  
> And thank you so much for sticking with me all this time.  
> I'll make sure to post as soon as possible.
> 
> Happy holidays to you all.  
> Love one another and enjoy life.  
> I wish you the best.


	11. Compromising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys!  
> First of all, I am deeply sorry for the delay, I got trapped by a few things that required my attention, but now I am back with a new chapter.
> 
> And without any further ado...

**Natasha’s POV**

I had left the compound late at night… very, very late. It’d had nothing to do with my desire to best myself in technics I had already perfected, or the delusion that my body could work tirelessly for hours and hours. It was just that I was afraid of going home, because it turned out, home, at the moment, was the same place where Steve lived—I pondered for hours and hours about where to go, if showing my face at his apartment was the best move, or if I should find some place of my own and stop bothering him.

In the end, I couldn’t avoid the pull I felt towards him, and now I was standing at his doorstep, looking at the wooden plank with a bit of resentment. Was he on the other side? Had he felt my presence already? If he had, why hadn’t he said something? If he wasn’t, where the fuck had he gone?

I decided I couldn’t stay there all night, so I used my key and entered the place. I couldn’t tell which was more predominant—the disappointment for not finding him there, or the relief because I would have some more time before I had to face him. One thing was for sure, I was worried sick that he had been wandering the city’s streets while injured and alone.

My brain was a mess, my chest couldn’t deal with the invisible force pressing down on it, my pulse couldn’t find a resting pace, and my nerves only seemed to worsen as my blood kept on boiling every time I thought on what Clint had taken away from me. Of course, I was also mad at myself, I could only blame the archer to some extent—if I had confessed sooner, none of this would have happened… or maybe it would have, but then my feelings would have been different only by knowing it had been me the one who had informed him of my past mistakes.

I stayed there, I stayed in his bed. I never got to the part of consciously deciding whether I wanted to wait for him or not, but once I sat on the bed, his essence enveloped me and it didn’t let go. Being there, surrounded by his stuff, his perfume, things that represented him, it made me feel safe, and without noticing it, I drifted away—blame it to the tiredness brought upon me by my stubbornness, and of course Steve’s pillows and covers, overflowing with his essence.

**Steve’s POV**

As soon as I stepped inside I felt the difference in the air. My senses felt the intruder’s presence and my brain changed into overdrive, ready for whichever danger awaited. I was close to charge through every door until I found the intruder, but my eyes caught sight of the set of keys on the side-table next to the entrance, and instantly, my heartbeat accelerated but for a complete different reason.

I opened the door to my room with as much gentleness as my clumsy hands allowed me to. She was right there, lying between my sheets. I tried to suppress the pleasant feeling of having her in my home, in my bed, tangled in my bedsheets, and the probable lingering smell she would leave behind. It was getting out of control how much I wanted her, how much I cared for her…

She started tossing and turning, mumbling something unintelligible, and it got me out of my state of stupidity. I got close and called her name, but the first try wouldn’t do, so I tried again, a bit louder, and decided touching her was the right call… obviously forgetting about the almost-healed half-moon shapes marking my neck.

“Natasha.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her cheek, trying with the gentleness one more time.

A scream got trapped in her through and suddenly she opened her eyes. She saw me, but I couldn’t be sure if she recognized me until her hands flew up and grabbed me by the wrists, and instead of pushing my hands away she kept me right there. “Steve.”

Hearing my name on her lips put my heart at ease. She had escaped this nightmare much more easier than the ones before. Her eyes scanned me, and I could see she was completely lucid, so I ventured my left hand from her shoulder towards her hair, clearing a few strands away from her face.

The tension of the moment compelled our brains to ask the same thing, both guided by concern:

“Are you okay?” we both asked at the same time.

We both laughed, slightly, contained. Every interaction I had ever had with Nat, had always been natural, embraced by a feeling of correctness, as if we were both supposed to be exactly where we were. It hadn’t changed, even now, and surprisingly, the intimacy of our touch, and words, and looks, had increased since the last time we had laid eyes on each other. This confirmed that none of what I'd learnt from her past could ever affect the way I felt about her, and most of my insecurities came from fear.

“I am,” I said, trying to avoid the topic of my injury, ready to face the elephant in the room. “Are you, though?” And I got the feel she knew right away that my question was meant to search for more than one answer—I was worried about her mental state, I was worried about her physicality, and I was deeply anxious for her to share with me the one thing I felt was stopping us from moving forward at the moment.

She took advantage of my vagueness and decided to start with something relatively easy. “The nightmares come and go. It’s always the same. The fall, the crash, and then the complete void. Over and over.”

It was the first time she had described it like that. Before, I only knew she dreamt of that day, but nothing too specific. Now, knowing it kept repeating in her head, the way she had fallen without anyone to hold her, with Barton losing his grip on her, it made me want to crush the tentacles of fear that continued on chasing her even after having escaped the darkness.

“I wish I could take it all away.” I would take the nightmares and hold them inside me if that freed her from the punishing grip of death.

“Some times there’s nothing, but somehow I can perceive it even while I’m asleep.” She seemed to gather her ideas, and then continued. “I don’t dream, I don’t feel the fall, but somehow I’m aware of the blackness, and that wakes me up. It’s a different kind of nightmare.”

I knew there was nothing I could do to slay the monster inside her mind, but I said it anyway. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna let anyone or anything take you away from me again.”

“Why?” she asked right away, and with a pained voice she added: “You know now about Clint.”

And there it was. She had finally addressed it, and the way she was phrasing it told me Clint had told her he’d spilled the beans.

I didn’t want to say anything stupid, so I kept my lips sealed and only nodded, hoping she would continue on speaking, telling me more about this unexpected ghost hovering over our heads.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

“I figured you hadn’t told me for a reason.” I wanted her honesty, her trust, but I couldn’t demand any of that, she would have to give it to me willingly, otherwise none of this would work… if I even got a chance after this mess.

“I was ashamed,” she said, deviating her stare to somewhere else in the room, anywhere but where my eyes awaited for hers. “It wasn’t my best moment. I was feeling lonely, hunted by the things I had done, worried I would never be able to outrun them, and alcohol seemed a good enough idea, whatever that could cloud my mind and thoughts.”

I didn’t wanna ask how long ago that was, and if she never told me I would be okay with it if she assured me that it hadn’t happened again. Judging by Clint’s words, I was pretty sure that was the case. And now that I was talking to her, touching her, listening to her explanation, I could see my anger hadn’t been the product of jealousy _per se,_ it had more to do with the fact I hand’t heard about this form her lips. Of course, having Barton around, attempting to get her back or whatever the hell he was trying to achieve, didn’t help my male ego and confidence. Wasn’t I supposed to be the righteous soldier? I was having a hard time processing all this negative feelings.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Natasha said, pulling me out of my head with her words and the touch of her palm against my cheek.

I backed away a few inches so she could sit down, and she did exactly that, reading the intention of my movements—that was something special, that synchrony. “Jealousy isn’t part of the profile, so it’s a bit disconcerting. It’s like my whole life I’ve been focused on war, on battles, on fighting off villains in order to protect people, and this doesn’t feel like part of my programming, so I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Steve, you’re not a robot.” Before she could control it, her body spasmed a little, and it seemed as if she were going to reach out to me right before settling with laying against the headboard. “It happened a while ago, and it never happened again. I’ve been trying to get past that all this time, but Clint, for some reason, has gotten into his head that he has to see this through somehow.”

That wasn’t news to me, Clint did seem too intent in trying to get something out of that one encounter he’d had with Nat.

Silence took over the room, permeating us with its thickness and intensity. Natasha was doing everything in her power to look away from me, and to me, that kind of behavior didn’t belong with her—I was having a hard time understanding why she was so ashamed and worried around me. I wanted back my Nat, I wanted her to heal from everything that had happened to her, I wanted her to beat that insecurity that kept gnawing at her brains. Her health, in every sense of the word, was the most important thing to me.

“Natasha, I don’t care.” I tried to convey the correct emotion through my voice and eyes. “What happened with him… I don’t care. And honestly, it’s none of my business. I don’t think less of you because of that.”

“Why did you run away then?”

“I didn’t handle it well, but it has nothing to do with who you are.” I could see now how my childish behavior had been affecting her. “Like I said, I never had to deal with this kind of emotions. My life has always been about war, and as soon as I got out of one I entered the next, ready to beat the danger without thinking about what I wanted. That was my role.”

“What about Peggy?”

Yes, Peggy. She had been, and would always be, my first love, and it had been wonderful getting to see her before she parted from this realm, but she had belonged to the man who drove that plane into the water all those years ago. The one who had emerged, although he’d had a tough time adjusting to the new era in which he had woken up, had built new bonds, and one of them, the most special of them all, was the one he had created with Natasha. It had been unexpected, and truly, I hadn’t realized it was happening until the deal had been sealed—the pain of not seeing her return had been devastating, but then again, I had been required to fight yet another war.

“She will always be special to me, but in the end we both had to follow different paths, we were meant to do great things in our own.” I wanted to say more and make her see why all of this was happening to me. “I’m here with you, and I never expected to feel the way I do about you. It’s different with you.”

“None of this is easy,” she said, almost if she were arguing against whatever we were doing. “Who we are… what we do…”

“It never has been.”

It was definitely not the first time I had thought about dating anyone, but none of my former romantic interest had been suitable for me, and there had always been a small voice inside my head chanting how awful of an idea it was. Sharon had been the closest I had been to actually try, but we all knew how that ended up. Between all that madness Natasha had been present, even before that.

“Do you remember the first time in New York?” In my head was still fresh, as if it had happened yesterday.

“Yeah.”

“I felt fear when you asked me to launch you upwards.” She didn’t say anything, and it was my turn to be absorbed by my thoughts and concerns.

Back then I barely knew her, I barely knew the man I was becoming—I was trying to adjust, torn between the man I had been and who I was supposed to be, who everyone needed me to be. It had been too soon, I had felt frozen in time, and it made me slow to recognize the magnetism Natasha exuded—it wasn’t the time for it, and I couldn’t allow myself the privilege of pursuing said feelings. But despite all that, despite being under such stressful situation, I could see her.

“And then again when the whole S.H.I.E.L.D./HYDRA issue went down…” I especially remembered our time at the mall, acting like a couple. It had felt natural, correct. And I could remember thinking _I could get used to this_.

“I remember that,” Nat said, and by the glint in her eyes I could perceive she was thinking about the same moment I was relieving in my head.

Her hands had found their way towards mine, her fingers playing with mine, using the softest of touches. Her skin was a combination of smooth and hackly, transforming the sensation into something much more pleasurable—I imagined those same hands traveling to other places, eliciting a sinful thrill.

Lately, I had caught myself thinking more and more about her like that. It had started a long time ago, but until now, I felt I had earned a license to leave everything else aside and focus on what she made me feel. It never seemed the right time, but now…

“Nat…” It had to be settled.

Everything within myself stilled, every molecule paying attention to her, awaiting for me to say the words needed to take the next step. I had her right in front of me, no distraction, already on the topic, with nothing stopping me from asking… but overcoming cowardice wasn’t that easy, was it?

_What are you going to offer? What can the old soldier offer this beautiful, Russian, skilled woman?_ “I think I should let you rest. I’ll be on the other room if you need me.”

“Steve, wait.” Just as I was moving off the bed and turning my back on her, she caught my wrist. “Just stay here. I can’t keep on stealing your bed, and if you’re going to allow me to stay here for longer, you should at least be comfortable in your own home.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind…”

“That couch is awful, Rogers,” she cut my words before I could build up a lie along with a protective wall. “I can see your face, you need to rest. And this bed is big enough for both of us.”

It was ridiculous how easy this was for her, how insanely smooth she made it look, while all I could do was trip over my own thoughts, embarrass myself, and back down at the last minute because I was afraid of the outcome.

I thought about it, I analyzed the situation with the cold patience of the soldier—something I couldn’t quite get rid of, didn’t matter how much I tried—and after delivering enough to extend the silence to an awkward one, I decided against my better judgment. I knew nothing of my limits when it came to Natasha, much less being in such close proximity while alone, encaged by four walls that only seemed to close in on us the more time I spent around her. She was better, she was regaining her mental fortitude and that meant danger… a different type of danger, but danger nonetheless.

She must have perceived it as an eternity, because the next thing I knew was that she was pulling softly, but insistently, from my hand, inching me towards the bed, towards her. The lights were still off, but I could see perfectly the outline of a sport outfit she had surely taken from the training complex—I would have loved to believe there was no risk of doing anything “inappropriate” having her in such garments, but the truth was that didn’t matter, I was screwed either way because Natasha could make any kind of clothing look stunning.

I got in bed, kicked off the sneakers, got rid of the socks, and kept the jeans and shirt. She let go of my wrist temporarily and caught it again once I lay next to her, making me glide swiftly towards her body in the middle of the mattress. I was looking straight ahead, right towards the ceiling, trying to avoid any kind of compromising touch between us. _How on earth had I battled against the most terrifying and powerful armies, and still shrunk before the sight of a woman?_ Of course I knew the answer as the question was born inside my head. It was Natasha, always Natasha Romanoff.

Her voice resonated in the dark after a few minutes of just lying still. “Why does it have to be all so complicated?” she asked.

“I don’t know…” And truly, I couldn’t find a single reason why this whole thing between us had to be so difficult to decipher, and that coming from me, the man that hours prior was messing things up even more by acting like a freaking child.

“Kristen from statistics… do you remember that?”

I didn’t know where she was getting at, but I nodded because I did remember, I could go back in my mind and retrieve every bit of the conversation we’ve had.

“You said you were too busy,” she added, “and I should know, I was there for most of it. But you could’ve made time…”

I smiled even though she couldn’t see me, or so I believed. “Is there a question?”

“Was that the reason?” Her fingers applied pressure over my forearm, the suggestion in the touch derailing my train of thought and blocking every cognitive pathway, transforming me into nothing more than a sensorial being.

Well, she was taking the steps, enticing me into taking them with her. So, naturally, I turned off the rest of the functions that hadn’t been compromised already and I focused on the feelings, on her and everything she represented—I turned, laying on my left side, facing her completely.

“Neither Kristen nor Kate were what, or whom, I wanted.”

She lifted her hand until her palm found my cheek. I could see her looking back at me despite the darkness enveloping us like a mantle, and it made me think back on who she was underneath the tenderness, underneath those hypnotic green orbs, underneath those tantalizing, plump lips… what she could do did not collate with what she was currently doing. Her touch was soft and gentle, so tender I could barely contain the urge to close my eyes and submerge in the overwhelming experience.

My right hand found its way to her waist, basically on its own and without any kind of conscious order from my part, but feeling her sigh at the contact brought me an extreme sense of contentment and pleasure.

Then she broke the silence again, adding more pressure to our closeness and more expectations over our shoulders. “Have I said how much it means to me that you went back to get me?”

“Mmm, it’s a bit blurry,” I said with playful tone—if she was going to play, then I could do so as well, leaving behind every single thing, every damn thought, that didn’t belong in the moment, in that space in the bed between us… “But you are welcome to do it again, you know, to refresh my memory.”

I felt her laugh more than seeing her, and the vibrations drove me further towards the line I had been very careful not to cross. Then she stepped over it by sliding closer to me and placing her lips right on my commissure. I couldn’t do anything but to hold my position, letting her scent wash all over me—some sort of spicy and floral essence—sweeping the rug under my feet, making me grateful for being horizontal already, otherwise, I would have fallen backwards, prey of her charm.

“Let’s forget about the _complicated_ part,” I said once she moved back to her original position. And that was the only warning I gave her before using my left elbow as leverage, lifting myself a bit over her, and then lowering my lips towards hers as my right hand delighted in the soft skin it had found underneath the worn shirt.

And just like that, with my ears catching the subtle and contained moans that surged from her throat as our tongues met, my body melted and tried to blend with hers. Her hands found their way underneath the garment covering my torso, and the coldness her palms contrasted sharply with the burning sensation of my skin—it was a welcoming sensation, one that kept me grounded, enough to remind myself I had to enjoy every single bit of it, of her.

When her teeth sunk into my lower lip, I knew I was lost, and I knew it wasn’t something new, it was just a feeling that had been cooking for the past few years. All that pent up tension, poured into one single kiss, one that seemed to go on for ever. I had never tasted something as sweet and glorious as her, and the only thing I could do to survive the explosions taking place within my being, was to surrender and offer myself to her—every scar, every fear, every passion, every dream… it all belonged to her, whether she knew it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, things are heating up.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you stay tuned for what's to come.  
> Like always, feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
> 
> I offer you my best wishes, and remember, be kind to one another and stay safe.
> 
> Until next time!


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